


Thin Line Between Us

by painted_lady12



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Anorexia, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Eating Disorders, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Eye Sex, Falling In Love, Gay Male Character, Hook-Up, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Model Katsuki Yuuri, Modeling, Oral Sex, Photo Shoots, Photography, Possessive Behavior, Skater Katsuki Yuuri, Skater Victor Nikiforov, Top Katsuki Yuuri, Top Victor Nikiforov, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-01-10 22:59:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12309651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painted_lady12/pseuds/painted_lady12
Summary: “You and our other model will be secret mythical lovers.  We want you two to really sell that you are so infatuated with each other that you can’t even be bothered to look at the camera.  However, we want it to be serious.  No smiling.  Convey your want with your eyes and your body language.  Unleash your inner eros.”“Eros,” came a voice from behind him, and Yuuri felt himself go stock-still.Viktor Nikiforov was standing there, in his own pair of ripped jeans and nothing but a leather jacket open in the front and Yuuri Katsuki was very, very sure that he must have died.***AU where Yuuri failed at the Grand Prix Final for different reasons, and doesn't go to the banquet.  Instead, after he loses he quits skating and picks up the modeling he had been doing full time, and is surprised to end up at a shoot with none other than his childhood idol.





	1. Giving In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Suzu_Vetka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzu_Vetka/gifts).



> This is based off a prompt from a lovely comment on "Alia Iacta Est". It was originally going to be incorporated into that universe, but instead it has a mind of its own now. It has taken control. Please send help.
> 
> I've been writing it for like a week or so now. Let me know how you like it!
> 
> TIMELINE: Yuuri fails at his first Grand Prix Final because of an eating disorder instead of Vicchan (he's alive!). Yuuri does not go to the banquet and dance with Viktor. Instead, Yuuri turns to modeling to cope with his failure in figure skating, and ends up picking it up full time. The next Grand Prix Series is now drawing to a close with the NHK Trophy fast approaching, and Yuuri runs into a familiar face at one of his shoots.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: please refer to the tags! There will be some topics in here that are not up your alley/may be triggering to you. If this fic makes you feel some type of way, reach out to a loved one

“There are monsters under my skin, thick hot sliding creatures that bite and growl and make everything too bright and too much and whenever I feel them move I move, too, away from the people around me and towards the far corners of this my tiny world because kiss-bitten lips are only a relief to those without monsters because warm embraces are searing hot when the monsters are awake because flowers of kindness wither and die in my hands because the monsters have taken so much life from me that they can suck the green right out of the beautiful stem and the colors bleed from the petals because happy, bright hues have no place where the monsters make me shiver and wither and hiss and....run, before they make me chase you away”

 

Yuuri re-read the passage from the book again.  His eyes seemed to slide right over the words, and they embedded themselves in his skull.  

 

“I need you to keep still,” the makeup artist chastised, and Yuuri flipped the page, crossing his legs.

 

His agent was re-applying her lipstick.

 

“So the ad is for a cologne.  The company just brought in an athlete to pose with you. They’re trying to widen their advertising market to gay men”

 

Yuuri blinked, wanting to ask exactly when this switch occurred, but a pointed look from his makeup artist made him decide that talking would be hazardous.

 

When the woman was finished with Yuuri, he got up, looking at himself in the mirror.

 

_ It's a stranger _

 

That was what Yuuri always thought when he came in to shoots.  His own fashion sense was nonexistent, but when other people dressed him it made a world of difference.  

 

His dark hair was slicked back.  They had taken his glasses and done his makeup to exaggerate his cheekbones and jawline so that he looked angular and dark.  He was wearing a white button-down that was unbuttoned far enough to show off his collarbones and the tops of his pectorals.  His pants were a pair of ripped up jeans, and they were cuffed to show that his feet were barefoot.

 

They were going for a “lost and delirious in the woods” type of look, and he couldn’t help but feel like he walked straight out of a werewolf teen romance novel.

 

His agent jumped up as someone popped their head in and asked for them to get to the set.  

 

For a moment, he just closed his eyes.

 

_ I am worth this.  They wouldn’t have hired me if I wasn’t good at this.  I’m going to kick this shoot in the ass and have enough time to meet Phichit for dinner when he flies in tonight. _

 

His friend was flying in for the NHK Trophy.  Yuuri immediately stopped his thoughts from going directly to  _ that could have been you. _

 

When Yuuri came out onto the set, he saw that they’d already done up the scene with moss and rocks and dead tree branches.  They were going for a mystical look for the cologne.

 

Wandering around, Yuuri was quickly caught by one of the stagers and brought over to sit on a log.  They quickly set to work adjusting the lighting and giving him his premise.

 

“You and our other model will be secret mythical lovers.  We want you two to really sell that you are so infatuated with each other that you can’t even be bothered to look at the camera.  However, we want it to be serious.  No smiling.  Convey your want with your eyes and your body language.  Unleash your inner eros.”

 

“Eros,” came a voice from behind him, and Yuuri felt himself go stock-still.

 

Viktor Nikiforov was standing there, in his own pair of ripped jeans and nothing but a leather jacket open in the front and Yuuri Katsuki was very, very sure that he must have died.

 

_ Viktor Nikiforov is standing in front of me. _

 

Yuuri couldn’t help but remember looking up to the older man for most of his life, couldn’t help but remember failing epically a year ago at his own Grand Prix Final attempt, where he shared the ice with that very same man…

 

His entire body reacted when Viktor’s eyes swept over Yuuri, in a look that was very difficult to misinterpret: pure, unadulterated lust, only magnified by his mussed appearance.  Viktor’s makeup had been done to make his eyes bluer, his face paler, all sharp contrasts.  His hair was made to look like he’s been working out, falling in thick, heavy locks in front of his eyes.

 

All Yuuri wanted to do is reach up and stroke one of the heavy strands from his eyes.  Viktor was walking over to Yuuri quickly now, invading his personal space incredibly quickly.

 

His heart was beating unbelievably fast when Viktor approached him, hovering only inches in front of him.  The staff was whispering excitedly, already starting to click their cameras at them.

 

Viktor’s breath tickled Yuuri’s face, and smelled like cinnamon sugar.  There was some sort of electricity sparking between their exposed skin, and Yuuri was so at a loss for words because he was getting so lost in those blue eyes…

 

...blue eyes that looked like he was mentally undressing Yuuri…

 

“I’m Viktor,” he said with a small, knowing smile, and Yuuri went cold all over.

 

_ He doesn’t recognize me. _

 

“I’m Yuuri,” he awkwardly put his hand up to shake, but there wasn’t enough room between them, so Viktor just ended up snatching it out of the air and cradling it to his face.

 

The cameras were going off like crazy now.

 

“They told me that our job was to look completely, obsessively infatuated with each other.  Are you ready to show me your eros, Yuuri?”

 

Blinking stupidly, Yuuri felt black heat pool in his stomach at the words.

 

Yuuri might be insecure, but he was certain of something: Viktor wanted him.  In this set, during this moment, Viktor’s entire being was focused on only one thing.

 

Yuuri wondered, briefly, how likely it was that one could get drunk off another’s presence.  

 

A fog machine started somewhere from nearby, and a feedback screen showed them the green screen view of the late evening full moon, and over Viktor’s shoulder, the two of them looked… good together.  The dark, sharp werewolf to the bright, sensual vampire.

 

Yuuri realized that the camera couldn’t see Viktor’s wide expanse of skin from his torso, and he quickly looked at Viktor with something akin to determination.

 

“Viktor, let the camera see your chest.  They’re being deprived.”

 

The Russian man blinked, looking completely disarmed by the flip in control, but quickly turned, a blush peppering his cheeks.

 

A few of the staff directed them how to stand, and Yuuri’s fingers snaked under the jacket, tickling the bare skin there.  He felt the shivers on Viktor’s skin, the intoxicating warmth that made Yuuri wish he could touch him everywhere, just to see whether Viktor Nikiforov was really as ice cold as everyone insisted…

 

Clearly they’d never caressed his porcelain skin.  The man was practically  _ scorching _ .

 

They quickly arrange Yuuri sitting on a log a few feet off the ground, with Viktor standing in front of him.  The height put Viktor’s head against Yuuri’s chest, and Yuuri entwined his fingers with Viktor’s.  Yuuri couldn’t help but travel his fingers along the Russian’s exposed wrist, feeling for his pulse, completely distracted by the change from calloused and scarred hands to smooth wrists.

 

There were similar scars on Yuuri’s hands, from spins and blade grabs gone wrong.  He wondered if Viktor could see those scars, and whether he’d put together that they were from the same desperate love of a sport that almost killed him…

 

_ No, eros, Yuuri, eros… _

 

Viktor leaned back against Yuuri and turned his head to the side, eyes closed, cheek pressed against the fabric of Yuuri’s shirt.  He was very aware that the expanding and contracting of his chest was making Viktor’s body move, too.

 

Yuuri couldn’t help but stare at the Russian man beneath him, feeling his cheeks heat up under his caked-on makeup.  His lashes were thick with mascara and obscured his view as his eyes drifted shut…

 

Then Viktor scooted backwards, and he was right up against Yuuri’s crotch, and Yuuri…

 

Well, Yuuri was very clearly channeling his inner eros.

 

Viktor hummed, pressing back against the attention, whispering only loud enough for them to hear, “You want me, don’t you?”

 

Choking a little on the air, he leaned closer to Viktor’s ear, whispering, “I’m sorry…”

 

“Don’t be,” Viktor practically purred, the sound going straight to Yuuri’s cock, “There’s nothing wrong with getting into the role.  I’m going to be in town for a few days.  We can always… channel our eros elsewhere.”

 

Oh no.  Yuuri couldn’t breathe, his entire body becoming hot and fingers shaking as they lightly grazed Viktor’s shoulders, still trying to play the part and give the photographers good shots.  “Are you asking me to sleep with you?”

 

Suddenly, one of the staff came forward and started posing them differently.  Viktor was posed to be angled towards the camera, and Yuuri was posed to be leaning against him.  Yuuri’s fingers were brushing against Viktor’s chest, the silver hair there so fine that it was almost nonexistent.  Yuuri rested his cheek against Viktor’s shoulder, the leather providing a soft place for him to lean.

 

His fingers explored the chest in front of him as Viktor’s strong arms encircled him possessively.  His blue eyes met the camera, face angry, clearly stating, “Back off.  He’s mine to do what I please.”

 

The way that Viktor’s blue eyes were staring daggers at the camera made Yuuri’s knees a little weak, and his hardness pressing against Viktor’s leg twitched involuntarily.

 

For a moment, Viktor broke out into a smirk, then quickly fixed his face to remove the partial smile.  “What were we talking about before we were rudely interrupted?”

 

“You mean with our jobs?”  Yuuri teased, spreading his hand out over Viktor’s pectoral so that his palm was flesh against the skin there.  

 

“Ah, yes, very inconvenient,” Viktor’s lips came so close to Yuuri’s ear that his breath blew like a harsh wind against his eardrum, warm and wet.

 

Staff pulled them apart now, and wanted them to do longing glances at each other from across the set.

 

Yuuri adjusted himself so that there was no obvious signs of his arousal, but he was pretty sure the entire shoot was already aware just how into their parts they were getting.

 

He did, in fact, see Viktor doing the same thing as he walked away.

 

Unsure which was more intoxicating, his own arousal or knowing that Viktor was just as aroused, Yuuri allowed himself to be posed again, never taking his eyes off Viktor’s face.

 

As Viktor made eye contact with him and smiled unthinkingly, Yuuri licked his lips, and Viktor’s smile fell in surprise, breath hitching in his chest.

 

Two hours and quite a few meaningful glances later, they were told that they could call it a wrap.

 

Viktor was holding Yuuri’s hips and biting into the flesh of his shoulder as the cameras stopped clicking.  Moving his mouth, he tickled Yuuri’s hair as he whispered, “Want to get out of here?”

 

It should have been something that he struggled over.  Normal Yuuri would have to piece apart the implications, the reasoning, the repercussions…

 

...but Yuuri was channeling his inner eros, and he just grinned devilishly, whispering, “Where should I meet you?”


	2. Revving Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Yuuri meet for a steamy rendezvous after the shoot, and learn some interesting things about each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hysterical when I was originally writing this chapter for reasons that will be made clear later. 
> 
> Please refer to the tags! 
> 
> As usual, I do not own Yuri! on Ice

Viktor stepped back, fingers lingering on Yuuri’s hip, saying softly, “Meet me in the lobby of my hotel.  I’m staying at the Hilton down the street.  Give me twenty minutes to finish up here.”

 

They separated, and Yuuri’s heart started crashing in his chest.  Yuuri was not someone who met mysterious men in their hotels.  Yuuri had had sex with exactly three people, and all three situations were when he was very drunk and very in college.

 

It seemed so… adult?... and scandalous.

 

It was setting Yuuri’s nerves on fire, in the good way.

 

When he got back to his dressing room, he quickly got undressed and wiped off his makeup.  His agent was clicking around on her phone.

 

“Alright, Yuuri, you’ve got another job tomorrow morning at seven.  I’ll email you the details.  It’s a clothing line.”

 

Nodding, Yuuri quickly put that in his phone, because he was very sure that he would forget about this new job in a few minutes when…

 

...shivering in anticipation, Yuuri threw his phone in his pocket and shrugged on his outfit, suddenly staring at himself in the mirror, self conscious.

 

He was Yuuri, again, no longer the mysterious, sharp stranger from the woods.  His hair was still slicked back, but his glasses were on, and his face went from angular to round, his clothes from sexy to… bleh.

 

His standard sweater and jeans combination just didn’t seem to feel good enough for a rendezvous with his old idol, Viktor Nikiforov…

 

...a memory came to him suddenly, of himself in the mirror three weeks after the Grand Prix Final, counting his ribs, wondering how many should be poking out before he was skinny enough to make up for his failure…

 

...taking a deep breath, Yuuri puffed up his chest.

 

_ Viktor Nikiforov wants me.  Don’t question it.  Eros, Yuuri.  Eros. _

 

Marching out of the room, his agent trailed behind him, heading in a different direction to her car.

 

As Yuuri approached the hotel, his head started swirling with dark thoughts.  What if Viktor saw him, like this, and rejected him?  What if he couldn’t find Viktor?  What if the other man was playing with him, and left him to wander around in the lobby stupidly, while he laughed on the phone with his friends?

 

When he entered the hotel, and saw Viktor waving enthusiastically in his direction, his swirling fear dissipated like fog at sunrise.  

 

Once he was only a few feet away, Viktor came forward and laced his fingers with Yuuri’s, a small, secret smile conveying that he wanted Yuuri all to himself.

 

“My room is on the ninth floor.  I’m staying here alone.”

 

A few very lewd thoughts were at the forefront of Yuuri’s mind, and he blushed involuntarily, making Viktor’s eyes widen.

 

“Your blush is the cutest.  I didn’t get to see it properly with all that pesky makeup on…”

 

That statement only made Yuuri blush harder as they climbed into the elevator.

 

The two of them moved to the back, and Yuuri was feeling bold.  His fingers untangled from Viktor’s and curled possessively around his middle.  Viktor followed the lead and wrapped his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, everywhere their bodies touching singing around them.

 

How did no one else hear the music their bodies were making?  It was pounding in his ears in time with his rushing heartbeat.

 

After they got off, Viktor tugged Yuuri’s hand, and soon they were rushing down the hall, running like children.

 

It felt so stupid and freeing and Yuuri started laughing, honest, happy laughter that drifted over his head, and Viktor joined in, their giggles floating like champagne bubbles over their light hearts and blushing faces.

 

When they reached Viktor’s room, the older man twirled Yuuri around until he was pushed up against the door, his strong arms bracketing Yuuri on either side, trapping him at Viktor’s mercy.  Blue eyes were practically sparking electricity as they bored into Yuuri’s, conveying so much that transcended words.

 

Yuuri’s fingers reached up and gently caressed the soft contour of Viktor’s face, and the Russian snaked out his tongue, licking at the closest digit, taking it into his mouth.

 

A thin membrane had been constructed at the shoot, with clear boundaries: that touching was fine, that lingering looks were fine, but in the name of professionalism there would be no  _ real  _ sexual advances.

 

The membrane was popped as Yuuri surged forward and pulled Viktor in for a kiss, heart hammering, breath hitching, and it was like he was standing on a precipice of a sheer cliff face, and he’d jumped and taken Viktor with him.

 

Now they were tumbling down towards the cold water below them, and neither of them could be bothered to care.

 

If Yuuri was nervous before, then Viktor’s lips were the answer.  If Yuuri was sad, then Viktor’s eyes were the cure.

 

Viktor swiped them into the room, and Yuuri was pushed through the doorway, pulling Viktor by his jacket forward with him, until he took a moment to take the room in and really appreciate what he was about to do with Viktor freaking Nikiforov.

Gravity took over from there, bringing Viktor’s lips to Yuuri’s, hungry, desperate, hot lips, tongue requesting access to Yuuri's mouth and Yuuri’s own tongue meeting him in the middle.

 

Their bodies were trying to get as close as possible.  Yuuri was quite sure that Viktor’s touch was a drug, and he was hopelessly addicted.

 

Hands suddenly were grazing Yuuri’s torso under his sweater, and Yuuri shivered there, the fingers leaving blazing trails where they went, a history of swirls and patterns that Yuuri wanted to commit to memory.

 

Where their hands were making soft, light, unhurried trails over each other’s bodies, their lips were hurried and rushed.  Yuuri’s tongue was relishing in the taste of Viktor, the biting taste of cinnamon making his mouth tingle.

 

Viktor suddenly pushed Yuuri back onto the bed, and Yuuri fell down with enough force that he bounced a little on the boxspring.  

 

Gasping, sweater riding up, he looked up at Viktor in awe as the older man shed his shirt and kicked off his shoes.  Then, Viktor kneeled down and carefully took Yuuri’s own shoes off, in a way that was unbelievably tender, that when juxtaposed with how hot and anonymous the rest of this endeavor had been seems oddly out of place

 

It made everything suddenly very real for Yuuri.  It wasn’t just a random, hot hook-up: it was Viktor Nikiforov removing his sneakers, and Viktor Nikiforov whose fingers were brushing against his ankles, bruised from skating earlier that day.

 

Without saying a word he crawled over Yuuri and gently bit at his lips, then his chin, and finally started nibbling at his pulse point, fingers pushing the fabric of his shirt up.

 

Huffing, Yuuri pulled his sweater off, and Viktor laughed, whispering, “Impatient, are we?”

 

“You went first,” Yuuri countered, grinning stupidly as Viktor’s teeth continued to bite teasingly into his skin.

 

Yuuri let Viktor continue to kiss and suck and bite at him for a little bit, but then became impatient and used his finger to guide Viktor’s lips back up to his, and Viktor hummed as they met, hips shifting forward and providing stimulation to where they both needed it most.

 

The desperation became pitched.  Viktor wrestled his pants off and then Yuuri took off his own.  The Russian man scooted back so that he was sitting up against the headboard, and Yuuri crawled into his lap in only his boxers, their hardened cocks sliding deliciously together through the fabric.

 

Yuuri and Viktor were completely wrapped around each other, Yuuri struggling to even find enough room to remove his boxers so that they could get to the next part of their evening…

 

Eventually, he ducked out of the embrace, threw his underwear onto the floor, and Viktor followed suit quickly.

 

When they were completely naked, Yuuri gulped, taking in the girth and length of Viktor’s cock.  His fingertips grazed the sensitive head, and Viktor’s head fell back almost painfully against the headboard.

 

“Ow,” he laughed, and Yuuri burst out in laughter too.  They couldn’t breathe with how hard they were laughing, leaning against each other, coughing and spluttering with giggles.

 

Then, out of seemingly nowhere, Viktor grabbed Yuuri’s cock, and he stopped laughing, gasping as the sensation washed over him.

 

Viktor’s fingers started stroking, making Yuuri rock back and forth to get more friction.

 

“Is this okay?” Viktor whispered breathily, and Yuuri nodded vehemently, fingers searching out for Viktor to give him the same attention.

 

Viktor stilled Yuuri in his searching, saying softly, “can you go into the drawer next to bed?  There’s lube there.”

 

Biting his lip, Yuuri whispered, “Are you usually a top?”

 

Blinking, Viktor asked, “Why, are you?”

 

The two of them stared at each other, and the world slowed down as they waited the other to deny it.

 

“Welp,” Yuuri said, rocking back on his heels.  

 

“Um, I mean,  we don’t need to penetrate… like that,” Viktor said softly, “There are other ways to get off.”

 

Yuuri jumped on the opportunity.  “What did you have in mind?”

 

Viktor pressed Yuuri backwards so that he was laying down on the bed, Viktor hovering over him.  “We can both use our mouths.”

 

Yuuri’s breath hitched.  He’d never tried that before, and the thought was making him ache with longing and nerves.  “I, um, if I don’t like it, can we stop?”

 

For a moment, Viktor blinked, then a smile slowly spread across his face, and he pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s lips.  “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.  If you don’t want to…”

 

“No!” Yuuri quickly cut him off, “I want to.”

 

“How about if you tap my leg twice with three fingers, we try something else instead?  I think you’ll find it difficult to… speak up.”

 

A fit of nervous giggles fought it’s way out of Yuuri’s chest, and Viktor smiled fondly, then repositioned himself.

 

Yuuri was pretty quickly staring up at Viktor’s cock bearing down on him.  A pair of warm lips suddenly encircled his own member, and he gasped, reaching out and drawing Viktor’s body down further so that he could do the same.

 

Once Viktor’s cock was in his mouth, he started bobbing and sucking.  He hadn’t given a blow job in a while, but it was kind of like riding a bicycle… downhill.

 

You only have to put in so much effort, and the damned thing will still react.

 

It was a little confusing at first, being pleasured and simultaneously pleasuring.  Every time Viktor did something a little too distracting, he’d pause in his own movement, and quickly feel guilty and need to focus completely on giving Viktor’s attention, which made it harder to enjoy what was happening to him.

 

However, at some point they set into a rhythm, and Yuuri was using his movements on Viktor’s cock to ground himself as Viktor started sucking extremely intensely, swallowing Yuuri down to the hilt.  It was a continuous feedback loop of intensity, and soon Yuuri was drowning in the sensation.  Their bodies were moving without their permission, fucking into each other’s mouths, bodies humming with delight, and Yuuri thought briefly about how quickly this night went from a simple model shoot to fucking his childhood idol.

 

Suddenly Yuuri felt a tap on his leg, and the confusion stilled his movement. He knew that leg tapping meant to stop, but not that type of leg tapping, so he popped off Viktor’s cock to ask…

 

Turns out that Viktor was warning him, because warm liquid spurted out all over Yuuri’s face, making his whole body burn with the lewdness.  Viktor was humming so much from getting off that the vibrations on his cock were unreal.

 

Viktor spent a decent amount more time on Yuuri.  The Japanese man was writhing, eyes closed to avoid getting any of the come in them, but soon he felt the familiar sensation in the pit of his stomach, the white hot burn from the orgasm.

 

Once the other man had swallowed down Yuuri’s own spill, Yuuri felt Viktor hop off the bed.  Confused, he asked, “Viktor…?” but soon he heard the water running, and a warm washcloth started wiping at his face gingerly.

 

“I’m sorry, Yuuri.  We should have worked out a few more signals.”

 

When Yuuri was fully cleaned off, he opened his eyes, sitting up on the bed.  Viktor threw the washcloth in his bathroom, and soon he was standing over Yuuri, eyeing him curiously.

 

“So?  How was the experience?  Would you recommend to a friend?”   
  


Grinning, then pretending to think critically, Yuuri shrugged.  “Well, the experience was a little odd at first, but towards the end became extremely… pleasant.  I’d give the whole thing an 8/10.”

 

Appalled, Viktor clutched at his chest.  “You wound me, Yuuri!”

 

Soon the Russian crawled onto the bed, and Yuuri laid down with him.  They stayed about a foot apart, looking at each other critically.

 

“Was it really good for you, though?”

 

Viktor’s concern made Yuuri nod enthusiastically.  “Yeah, it was.  You?”

 

“Oh, 8/10,” Viktor mused, and Yuuri coughed out a chuckle, smiling stupidly.

 

The moment froze, for a second.  They were both smiling at each other, staring into each other’s eyes, and they saw something forming there, something they couldn’t name.

 

“So, Yuuri, I don’t even know your last name.  Can I be let in?”

 

“Katsuki,” Yuuri said simply, and Viktor nodded, then his whole face blew wide with shock: eyes, nostrils, mouth, the whole thing.

 

“You… Yuuri Katsuki… you were a figure skater.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this, check out my other YOI fics!


	3. Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Yuuri have an uncomfortable confrontation. Later, Phichit and Yuuri enjoy dinner together the night before the NHK short program

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> I wanted to address the elephant in the room: the eating disorder. This fic will feature that, but it won't be as in depth with the mental illness aspect as "Silver Devils Play" is. There will definitely be some tough chapters, but I don't want it to become too triggering for anyone. My job is to entertain you, not hurt you<3 This chapter will, in all likelihood, be one of the hardest to get through.
> 
> Thank you all for the lovely feedback! I was surprised and excited with how people reacted to the cliffhanger. I'm sorry for that, but it was the most natural place to end that chapter, I promise. I wasn't going to post until Friday, but I accidentally wrote like four chapters and finished editing this one.
> 
> As usual, I do not own Yuri! on Ice

“You… Yuuri Katsuki… you were a figure skater.”

 

Yuuri sat up suddenly, blushing profusely.  “Umm…”

 

“You were in the Grand Prix Final last year.  You came in last because of nerves.  I remember that you wouldn’t speak to the press, and retired only a week later…”

 

Yuuri’s whole body was reacting to the recognition: his stomach was souring, his face was burning.  “Yeah, that was me.”

 

Viktor sat up then too, blinking a few times before muttering, “You knew exactly who I was, didn’t you, and you didn’t say anything…”

 

“I thought you wouldn’t even remember me,” Yuuri admitted, feeling the passing urge to sprint for the door, “I was terrible.  There were things going on last year that made competing near impossible.  That’s why I had to quit.”

 

There was an unreadable expression that passed over Viktor’s face, before his eyes trailed delicately along Yuuri’s naked body, and Yuuri couldn’t help but want to hide.

 

The Russian’s fingers traced the scars on his hands from bad skate grabs; he caressed the bruises on his ankles that he must now be realizing...

 

Then, his eyes swept over Yuuri’s torso, over his hipbones jutting out, at his rib cage clearly outlined, at his collarbone almost painfully exposed.

 

“You have an eating disorder.”

 

The term hissed in Yuuri’s mind like water on a hot pan; he sprang from the bed, shaking, mind stuck on repeat of the words, images racing through his head…

 

Of being so worried about the Grand Prix Final that he wouldn’t eat; of his body losing its muscle tone and getting injuries left and right that just wouldn’t heal properly; of doctors squinting at him uncomfortably; of his injuries impeding his Grand Prix performance and making him only spiral farther down the well; of his agent insisting that an ex-athlete would be a shoe-in for more modeling gigs...

 

Viktor stood up with him, hands out with palms up, like he was surrendering.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.  I’m not accusing you.  Is that why you quit?”

 

Grabbing for his clothes, he muttered, “I have to go.”

 

“No, please, I’m sorry,” Viktor stilled his arm as he pulled his pants up, and Yuuri quickly buttoned them but made eye contact with the Russian briefly.

 

The blue eyes were searching, his kiss-bitten lips parted attractively, and if Yuuri’s brain wasn’t spinning like a top with anxiety he would want nothing more than to kiss the man in front of him.

 

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” Yuuri deadpanned, and Viktor’s face tightened, but he didn’t move.

 

“Come on, please.  I just want to talk.  I remember you now, and I want to know what happened.  The way you skated was beautiful, even with the mistakes.  I felt something while watching you, Yuuri Katsuki.  Why did you quit?”

 

Angry tears welled up in Yuuri’s eyes.  “I already told you.  There were personal things…”

 

“The eating disorder,” Viktor finished, speaking the words very carefully.  

 

If Yuuri wanted to be talked down to, he would go to  _ anyone else _ other than his childhood idol.

 

“Goodbye, Viktor.”

 

Yuuri threw on his shirt and grabbed his wallet, also taking the time to put his shoes on.

 

“Can I have your number at least?  I’m in town this week and would love to see you again.”

 

It was like the Russian was deaf or dumb… or both?  Yuuri didn’t want to talk to him anymore.  Yuuri didn’t want to talk to anyone about this, let alone Viktor.

 

However, when he handed his phone out to Yuuri, he found himself taking it and hastily typing his number in.

 

“If you text me, we don’t discuss… that thing.  Otherwise I’m not coming.”

 

Viktor traced an “x” pattern over his chest, in a showing of “cross my heart”.

 

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri found him leaning forward and pressing a lingering kiss to Viktor’s lips.

 

“I had fun, Viktor.  I’d want to do it again.”

 

A wide, goofy smile watched him exit the hotel room, and his body was cold all over.

  
  


***

  
  


When Yuuri arrived at the restaurant, freshly showered, it was to see Phichit sitting there, heel bouncing in anticipation.

 

“Phichit!”

 

Phichit jumped up and ran over, tackling Yuuri in a hug.  The Thai skater was particularly tanned, and Yuuri whistled.  “Looks like living in Bangkok is good for your Vitamin D.”

 

Chuckling, Phichit ruffled Yuuri’s hair, making the older man whine. “I’m outside a lot more there.  It’s not freezing cold all the time like Detroit.”

 

They settled down at their table, and Yuuri mumbled, “It’s a lot warmer here, too, and I’m not that tan.”

 

“You’re modeling, though.  Don’t they make you wear a really high SPF so you don’t get weird tan lines?”

 

That much was true, and Yuuri started flipping through the menu.  The restaurant put calorie counts on all of their entrees, and Yuuri was eliminating… well, all of them.

 

“I think I’m going to get a noodle dish.  What about you?”

 

Yuuri’s eyes scanned the menu again, with another goal in mind.  “They have a pretty good salad selection.”  The salad could be wilted to look like he ate more than he did.

 

There was a moment of silence before Phichit said excitedly, “I’m going to order us some shrimp for an appetizer!  Oh, and a pizza!  This is the first meal in weeks that Ciao Ciao isn’t over my shoulder yelling about carbs.”

 

Smiling tightly, Yuuri said, “Sounds good.”

 

The waitress came over and they placed their orders

 

He wasn’t sure what he would do about the shrimp and pizza.  Quickly, he diverted his attention to… “So are you nervous about tomorrow?”

 

“You kidding?” Phichit threw his hands up in the air, “I’m terrified!  I’m up against Viktor freaking Nikiforov.  I’m automatically going be in second place at best.”

 

The name startled him and made his stomach tie in knots for a multitude of reasons.

 

“Are you excited?”

 

Yuuri jumped.  “For what?”

 

“Seeing Viktor, of course!  He’s going to be there tomorrow, too.”

 

Phichit knew about Yuuri’s obsession with the older skater, but he was completely oblivious to what was going through Yuuri’s head at that moment.

 

“Okay, Phichit, I have to tell you something, and I need you to  _ promise _ that you won’t make a scene in this restaurant.”

 

The Thai man perked up like a puppy sniffing bacon, eyes widening.  “Tell me tell me tell me.”

 

“Not if you’re like that,” Yuuri snapped, already blushing.

 

His friend coughed, switching personas, and said in a gruff, unassuming voice, “Okay, tell me if you want, I guess, whatever.”

 

Yuuri couldn’t stop the fit of giggles that escaped his lips, and quickly said, “Alright, so you know how I was at a shoot before this?”

 

“Yeah!  Cologne, right?”

 

Nodding, Yuuri leaned forward over the table, in an attempt to keep their conversation more private.  “Viktor was my partner for the shoot.”

 

Phichit squealed, saw Yuuri’s pointed look, and calmed himself down forcibly.  “No freaking way.  Were you pissing your pants?”

 

“It… gets even more… I’d ask you to sit down but seeing as you’re already sitting…”

 

Whining, Phichit grabbed Yuuri’s hands across the tablecloth, begging, “Just tell me, stop teasing!”

 

Taking a breath to steady himself, he said calmly, “He invited me back to his hotel room.”

 

Blinking, wide-eyed, Phichit hissed, “What the hell are you doing with me here, then?  Go!  It’s like your dream to hook up with the legendary…” Phichit trailed off as Yuuri’s face slid into a goofy grin.

 

“You already went, didn’t you?”

 

Nodding, Yuuri bit his lip, holding back a smile.

 

“You guys… did you… Yuuri I need  _ details _ .  Explicit.  What does his dick look like?  Is his hair really silver… down there?  What do his sex noises sound like?  Does he dominate in the bedroom…”

 

“I didn’t even say that we slept together yet!” Yuuri guffawed, enjoying the attention.  Right after they hooked up, Yuuri was riddled with nerves from their conversation before he left, and now he was getting to enjoy the fact that… “We did, though.”

 

Phichit gasped so loudly that a few people at surrounding tables looked over worriedly, like he was having a heart attack.

 

“You did WHAT now?!”

 

“I… um, we didn’t like explicitly have sex?  It was like, a whole double oral situation…?”

 

Phichit was definitely having a heart attack, because he was clutching his chest and his face was bright red.  “You’re telling me,” he said in a rough whisper, feigning secrecy, “That you and Viktor Nikiforov, a mere few hours ago, were 69-ing in his hotel room?!?!”

 

Yuuri’s blush spread down his whole face and onto his chest.  “Um… yeah?”

 

Phichit grabbed Yuuri by the collar of his shirt.  “When we are done here, you are marching straight to my hotel room and drawing me diagrams.  I want to know  _ everything _ .  Was it everything you hoped it would be?  Wait…” Phichit’s eyes widened, “Did he… recognize you?”

 

Sobering up a little, Yuuri scratched the tiny hairs on the back of his neck.  “He did, but um… not until… after.”

 

Suddenly the waitress came up with their food, and Phichit was completely distracted by the opportunity to eat.

 

“Yuuri you have to have some of this or I’ll look like a fatass all by myself.”

 

The sight of the food made Yuuri’s mind swirl incessantly, and he picked up one of the shrimps, and delicately took a bite, the food sliding down his throat forcibly, and he felt it settle in his stomach, a dead weight, another few ounces on the scale tonight…

 

Phichit was on his third slice of pizza when he slapped one down in front of Yuuri, smiling widely.  “Come on, Yuuri, eat!”

 

Fingers shaking, Yuuri brought the pizza to his lips.  Phichit had paused his own eating, and was watching Yuuri analytically and patiently, and Yuuri knew that he was being tested.

 

However, even with the judge, even just the one bite made him feel nauseous.

 

The smile slid off of his friend’s face.  “I felt it when I hugged you. It’s gotten worse, hasn’t it?”

 

The pizza felt like acid as it slid down his throat, thick and heavy…

 

“I’m fine.  Just a little under the weather.”

 

“Yuuri,” Phichit cut him off, “I want you to tell me, calorie by calorie, what you’ve eaten today.”

 

The question was one that he hadn’t been asked since he lived with the Thai skater, and Yuuri muttered, “I had a piece of whole wheat toast with almond butter for breakfast.  I had an apple for lunch.  I… haven’t eaten dinner yet.  I’m not planning on it, either.”

 

It was impossible to lie to Phichit.  His best friend would see through him in an instant.

 

“How bad is it, Yuuri?”

 

Wincing, he muttered, “I haven’t weighed myself in a few days.”

 

Carefully, Phichit cut off a piece of Yuuri’s pizza and held it up for Yuuri to eat.

 

His lips were sealed closed.

 

“Don’t treat me like a child, Phichit,” Yuuri whispered, “I haven’t seen you in months.  I want to have fun today.  I just had sex with my childhood idol.  Can we save the speech for… after your competition?”

 

His friend looked torn for a few minutes, before settling back into is seat and continuing to eat.  “We’re talking about it then, though.  I’d rather you hate me, alive, than love me, dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last line is something I often have to use with friends and patients of mine. It's my philosophy on being a part of a support system
> 
> Let me know in the comments how you feel! I haven't written the ending yet so I'm still very open to feedback, and questions. Also, let me know what kind of fun smut you want me to include! I'm down for like a vast majority of fun scenarios. 
> 
> If you like this fic, check out my other YOI fics! Some of them are complete, and "Silver Devils Play" is my other ongoing fic


	4. Looking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri goes to support Phichit at the NHK Trophy. Viktor performs his short program of On Love: Eros, which gets Yuuri thinking about the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> I completed my GREs! My raw score was right where I needed it to be. I gave myself a mental health day as a reward and wrote a shit ton. You will reap all the benefits of that! 
> 
> Okay, so I'm going to write some notes about the sex scene that happens in this chapter at the bottom. I'm giving you that warning now. 
> 
> Also, I wanted to thank everyone for sticking it through last chapter. I know it was rough, but it was necessary to understand the depth of the Yuuri's issues for this story to move forward.
> 
> As usual, I do not own Yuri! on Ice

Yuuri blinked awake.  He’d fallen asleep in Phichit’s hotel room, and there was, indeed, a very embarrassing diagram on the bed, which was poorly drawn and labeled with embarassing descriptors.

 

Gently taking the paper out from under Phichit’s hand, he tore it up and threw it in the garbage.  Then he set to work straightening the room up from their antics.  At some point they had found silly string, though Yuuri was still blanking on exactly how that came about.

 

The NHK Trophy was later that afternoon, and Phichit was planning on sleeping until eight, then heading to the rink for his warm-up time at nine-thirty.  Yuuri was going to run to his shoot, then head home quickly, then meet Phichit at one o’clock before the men’s single skate begins.  

 

At some point, Yuuri pulled out his phone, and almost dropped it.

 

A random number had texted him, saying:

 

_Viktor Nikiforov’s cell.  I hope I get to see you in the next few days.  We can work on our eros some more._

 

His chest was fluttering at the words.  A grin broke across his face.  

 

As if he had some supernatural sense for these things, Phichit grumbled awake.  “Washappening?”

 

“Viktor texted me,” Yuuri whispered, and Phichit was wide awake in seconds.

 

“At no point yesterday in all our diagramming… where is that, by the way?... did you tell me that you gave him your number!”

 

Yuuri hadn’t left the detail out intentionally.  They’d just been focused on a _very_ specific topic last night.  Phichit started hunting around the room for his diagram when Yuuri shrugged.   “Oh, well, yeah.”

 

“What did he say?”

 

Yuuri handed his phone over, and Phichit’s eyes widened.

 

“Damn.  How do you think he's going to react when you come to the competition?”

 

Yuuri had not thought that part through.  Would Viktor think he's following him?  Maybe it’ll be okay if he sees that he's rooting for Phichit…

 

It was going to be a long day.

 

***

 

As he shrugged out of his warm robe and stepped onto the set in his first outfit, the chilly morning air penetrated through the thin fabric of a plaid button-up, new glasses perched on his nose.

 

The staff quickly posed him and positioned the lighting.  They took a few shots of him alone, and then brought a girl out with him.  They were supposed to look like they were having a carefree, casual day.  The girl was sweet and they joked and laughed awkwardly throughout the posing.

 

It felt innately wrong, and very unnatural.  Not like posing with Viktor; there he forgot completely about the cameras and fell completely under his mercy.

 

They went through a few clothing changes, but Yuuri couldn’t help but wonder what Viktor was doing, and what he would do, if he was there.

 

It was over in a blink, and soon he was changing into his street clothes and ducking out of the shoot, waving pleasantly at the staff to say good-bye

 

***

 

When Yuuri stood outside of the rink, his whole body was buzzing with nerves.

 

This would be the first time since quitting that he will be at a competition that he wasn't participating in.

 

Following the throngs of people entering, he quickly dashed to find Phichit, who was supposed to be in the stands for the first part, as he was picked to go on in the second half.

 

Yuuri found his friend quickly, who was sitting with Guang Hong Ji, and both of them waved enthusiastically.

 

_Oh no._

 

When he walked up to them, Yuuri shot Phichit a look of concern, before Phichit scooted over to make room for Yuuri on his other side.

 

“Ji, you’ve met Yuuri, right?”

 

Guang Hong Ji was blinking, in shock.  “Yuuri Katsuki?”

 

The tone conveyed what he knew, which was likely everything.

 

Yuuri’s sweatshirt wasn’t warm enough, and he was already cold in the chilly rink.  Without competing, there wasn’t anything to warm him up.  He internally cursed at not bringing more layers.

 

Phichit saw him shiver and said nothing.

 

The first three competitors were all people that Yuuri had never met before.  They blew by in a flash, but once Phichit and Ji left to warm up, Yuuri felt himself alone.

 

There was a break, and he went to find hot tea, suddenly seeing a mass of cameras descend upon…

 

“Viktor, how do you feel about your odds of winning today?”

 

“Is it true that you skipped practice last night to do a modeling shoot?”

 

“Is it true that you brought someone back to your hotel room last night?”

 

The questions fell like prickles on Yuuri’s spine, and he ordered his hot tea, bringing his scarf up to cover his face as best he could.

 

When he turned with his hot tea, two bright blue eyes caught sight of him.

 

Viktor was giving an interview and stuttered, seeing Yuuri there, face going slack.  The person interviewing turned around, and Yuuri turned his face away, walking quickly past a few passerby, heart hammering.

 

When Yuuri got to the stands, they were just starting the second half of the competition.  Phichit was taking the ice, and Yuuri’s foot was wiggling nervously.

 

When Phichit explained to Yuuri that he was finally doing the King and the Skater, Yuuri couldn’t contain his excitement for his friend.  He’d been on quite a few long video chats, giving Phichit feedback.  

 

As his friend’s program began, Yuuri felt himself commenting on his form immediately, remembering all of the practices and exactly what was going through Phichit’s mind.  He leaned forward unthinkingly, completely engaged in the performance.

 

When Phichit fell on his one jump, Yuuri bit his finger so as not to yell out loud.  His friend got right back up, though, and finished off his routine with a flourish.

 

His score was 86.75, a personal best, and relief washed over Yuuri.

 

Then, Guang Hong Ji was up, and his performance was wonderful, but it lacked in difficulty, and ended up as a 79.87.

 

Yuuri held his breath as Viktor took the ice.

 

His silver hair fell attractively in his eyes as he took a position in the middle of the ice.  He was wearing a scarlet suit, with golden shoulder pads and trim.

 

There was a golden mesh back, and Yuuri’s breath hitched as he watched his muscles ripple as the Russian took his starting pose.

 

A guitar played, and Viktor drew his arms around his head attractively, and Yuuri swore that Viktor could see him in the crowd, and blew him a kiss.

 

His heart stopped.

 

The violin started then, and Viktor launched into what could only be described as _Sex! On Ice._  Yuuri felt himself flush as Viktor went through the motions, face full of confidence, body tensed up like a whip ready to strike, muscles moving attractively under his suit.

 

The instruments built a mounting tension, and as Phichit joined him in the stands, his friend wolf whistled.

 

Yuuri could feel Viktor’s own hands on him, touching him, with every sway of his hips he felt the ghost of Viktor in his mouth, the ghost of Viktor everywhere…

 

Phichit was watching with awe, blushing a little himself, but Yuuri was completely enraptured in the performance.

 

The last few bars were completely sinful, the way Viktor touched himself, the way Viktor launched into his perfect quadruple flip.

 

As Viktor hit his final pose, and Yuuri was very sure this time, Viktor was pointing up at him.

 

How the older man found him, he wasn’t sure, but even from this distance, Viktor’s blue eyes danced in reflection of the light like the hottest tips of the flame.

 

Yuuri couldn’t help but want to burn.

 

***

 

As Yuuri sat in the small conference room, waiting for Viktor to finish interviews, his mind was racing with thoughts of Viktor’s performance…

 

Phichit and Ciao Ciao had left fairly early in the evening, reportedly due to jet lag.  Phichit had given Yuuri two thumbs up as he left.

 

Now, as the door opened and Yuuri sprang up, Viktor looked at him with so much hunger that it almost pained him.

 

They wandered towards each other, possessed, and came into each other’s arms, faces inches apart.

 

“All I could think about was you,” Viktor whispered softly, stroking a line down the front of Yuuri’s shirt.

 

“Well, I felt it, from all the way up there.”

 

Grinning, Viktor’s fingers splayed across Yuuri’s lower abdomen, and Yuuri felt the places Viktor had touched him the day before flare up with life, desperate for those touches again.

 

“Want to come back to my room?  I’d love to take you apart, lick by lick.”

 

A shiver ran down Yuuri’s spine.  He thought about how he hadn’t scheduled any shoots the next day for the free skate, to be there for Phichit, and how his schedule was virtually wide open.

 

“I might be able to swing it.”

 

***

 

They did not take each other apart, lick by lick.

 

Instead, they fumbled and made out and shed their clothes, pressing hot and hurried kisses to each other’s skin, and eventually found themselves in the same pickle as last time.

 

“Fuck,” Viktor hissed, the lube in his hand falling to the bed.  “I forgot again.”

 

Chuckling, Yuuri rocked back on his heels, half-hard cock bobbing against his chest.  

 

That is how they ended up, flushed and hard and desperate, playing rock-paper-scissors.

 

When Viktor lost, he visibly paled.  “Two out of three?”

 

Snickering, Yuuri leaned his forehead against Viktor’s shoulder, breathing rapidly.  “I won’t do it without your permission, Viktor, but I won fair and square.”

 

There was a sharp intake of breath, and a whispered, “There’s so much else we can…”

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

The younger man leaned back, searching Viktor’s eyes, whose face visibly softened at the sight, swallowing.

 

“Yes,” Viktor whispered, leaning back onto the bed and gazing up at Yuuri with a determined expression.

 

Yuuri leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, whispering, “Tell me if I need to stop, or if I do something that you don’t like.  If it makes you too uncomfortable, we can always stop and get creative in other ways.”

 

Nodding rapidly, Yuuri could feel the tension start to coil in Viktor’s muscles, and when he retrieved the lube, he took care to run his fingers soothingly over Viktor’s thighs, bringing Viktor’s legs up to rest on Yuuri’s shoulders.

  
To make it less uncomfortable, Yuuri warmed the lube up between his fingers first, then said, “Okay, ready?”

 

Nodding, Viktor tensed as he felt a sharp pressure against his opening, and something pressed into him.

 

After his partner whimpered a little, Yuuri stilled his finger, using his other hand to rub soothing circles on Viktor’s leg, and slowly but surely the other man began to relax, and Yuuri took his gentle, careful time rubbing against Viktor’s walls, preparing him as much as possible before adding a second finger.

 

Again, Viktor tensed against the intrusion, and Yuuri started speaking.

 

“You were so hot when I saw you on the ice today, Viktor, I’m surprised the surface wasn’t steaming.”

 

At his words, Viktor’s eyes started hazing up with the memory, and closed, his muscles beginning to relax at his arousal.

 

“You were beautiful.  I wanted to rush down and take you right there, in front of everyone.”

 

Gasping, Viktor’s hips started moving with Yuuri, so that he could take Yuuri deeper.

 

“Is that what you like?  Showing everyone how much I want you?  You want the whole world to know?”

 

“Y-yes,” Viktor whispered, “God, yes.”

 

The third finger was easier with Viktor’s relaxed state, and Yuuri continued, “You’re doing so good for me, Viktor.  I want to make you feel so good.  Tell me how to please you.”

 

Sweat was beading on Viktor’s brow, and his hips started pressing against Yuuri’s fingers in earnest to get more friction.

 

At that, Yuuri decided that his partner was ready, and wrapped himself in the condom, lining himself with Viktor’s opening.

 

In the short absence of his fingers, Viktor had started to tense up again, and Yuuri licked down Viktor’s legs, trying to get him to calm down.

 

“You’re so beautiful, Viktor.  I can’t wait to fuck you right.  You’ll look just like you did at the end of your eros performance…”

 

An idea struck Yuuri, and he moved to hover over Viktor's cock, and his tongue darted out at the shaft, pressing licking kisses to it.

 

The contact with his member made Viktor start to relax immediately, and after a few moments of attention, Yuuri came off him with a pop, sat up, and pressed in.

 

It was still difficult.  Viktor was trying to breathe through it, but he was clearly not used to letting this happen to him.  For a few minutes it was just mechanical pushing, to try to calm Viktor down and push deeper in, until Yuuri started whispering again.

 

“You take me so well, Viktor, let me know when I can start moving…”

 

His words had a positive effect on the other man, because after a few seconds, Viktor took a few deep breaths and whispered, “Now.”

 

Yuuri couldn’t contain himself anymore, with all the built up sexual tension.  Between Viktor’s eros performance and the shoot from the day before, it took everything in Yuuri not to fuck his brains out.

 

Now, he was being given permission.

 

Rearing back, he snapped forward at a punishing pace, and Viktor actually screamed at the sensation.

 

Panicked, Yuuri stilled, and Viktor cried, “No, don’t _stop_ , damnit!”

 

A grin broke out on Yuuri’s face as he reared back to snap in again.  Viktor felt so good against Yuuri, rocking with his movements, writhing around underneath him.  

 

Eventually Viktor actually pushed Yuuri’s shoulders back, so that the younger man was sitting up against the headboard, and knelt in front of Yuuri, facing away.

 

Then, he sat down onto Yuuri’s cock enthusiastically, and Yuuri wondered briefly whether or not Viktor had actually ever tried bottoming, because clearly he was enjoying himself.

 

Once Viktor sat back, Yuuri started snapping up. Between Viktor riding Yuuri, hands tracing patterns with his fingernails on Yuuri’s thighs, and Yuuri pressing up into Viktor, their shared heat and passion sent them both into a state of pure, fucked out bliss.

 

When Yuuri came, he barely felt it, because he was feeling so good it barely was a difference.

 

As soon as he was done he pulled out of Viktor and used his hand to finish the other man off.  Viktor was gasping beneath him, grabbing at the sheets, groaning at the feeling of relief when he got off.

 

The two of them just laid there for a few minutes together, completely exhausted.  Their heavy breathing was the only sound heard in the hotel room, and soon their fingers found each other again, stroking leisurely, pressing licks to heated skin.

 

Before Yuuri knew it, they were at it again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consent is, like, the number one most important thing to me when writing smut. This exchange was 100% consensual, and it will be touched on next chapter as well. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, my loves! You are all wonderful and I'm so amazed by the positive feedback I've been getting. I'd actually like to know what part of this fic you like the best so I know where to focus my efforts towards the end. Let me know in the comments!
> 
> If you like this fic, check out my other YOI fics!


	5. Standing Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri watches the free skate and comes to an embarrassing realization. Later, Phichit and Yuuri go out to the club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves!
> 
> Thanks so much for the feedback you guys gave me! I'm taking all of that into consideration as I'm writing the final few chapters. It means the world to me that you guys are enjoying this story<3 I hope I do you all proud
> 
> Also, recently I've gotten a twitter and tumblr for this account! I have yet to do much with them, but I'll be working on them over the next week and soon you'll be able to refer to them for updates. Also, if any of you would like to DM me questions or concerns, feel free! Even if you just want to scream about cute YOI posts with me.  
> Twitter: painted_lady12  
> Tumblr: painted-lady12
> 
> As usual, I don't own Yuri! on Ice

The next day, at competition, Yuuri was watching Viktor perform first, and felt himself go completely numb from the sight.   
  
  
  
Viktor looked positively wrecked out there.  Even his score from the day before couldn’t make up for the fact that most of his jumps had to be decreased in difficulty.  Doubles to singles, Triples to doubles.   
  
  
  
Even his quad flip became a triple.   
  
  
  
The way Yuuri’s face burned was mutinous.  He wasn’t even thinking last night about how this would affect Viktor’s performance, even if…   
  
  
  
Even if, when Viktor woke up…   
  
  
  
_ Earlier that day   
_   
  
  
Yuuri rolled over into Viktor’s side, and heard a moan that muttered, “Five more minutes!”   
  
  
  
Sitting up straight, Yuuri quickly assessed that he was, in fact, in a hotel room, and that Viktor Nikiforov was the one who was facing away from him, ass red and splotchy from the previous evening’s activities.   
  
  
  
“Viktor,” Yuuri tried, and the other man sat up suddenly, eyes heavy and squinting with sleep.   
  
  
  
“Wasyouneed?”   
  
  
  
Snorting, Yuuri brushed some hair away from the other man’s face.  “You look like a mess.”   
  
  
  
When Viktor gathered his bearings, his face became unreadable, and he laid back down onto the bed, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully.   
  
  
  
“I want to thank you, Yuuri.”   
  
  
  
Unsure, Yuuri laid down too, propping his head up on his elbows to gaze at Viktor thoughtfully.  “For what?”   
  
  
  
“I actually enjoyed last night a lot,” Viktor said honestly, eyes twinkling, “Up until then, I’d only had bad experiences bottoming.  I honestly thought that it was a myth that people could enjoy that.  Yet, I stand corrected.”   
  
  
  
Yuuri’s heart softened.  “I’m glad I could give that to you.”   
  
  
  
_ NHK Trophy Free Skate   
_   
  
  
Viktor ended up doing extremely well, but still not as high as his usual score.     
  
  
  
The feeling that settled in Yuuri’s gut went far beyond guilt.   
  
  
  
Guang Hong Ji’s performance was good, but again nothing especially interesting, and he ended up doing worse than Viktor , at least, which made Yuuri feel like shit for thinking it.   
  
  
  
However, when Phichit scored a personal best and shot above Viktor in the rankings, he felt momentary elation, and then mortification.   
  
  
  
Once the final standings were up, that Phichit got gold, Yuuri made a solemn vow.   
  
  
  
He realized that he would have to keep the fact that he _literally_ fucked Viktor Nikiforov into second place from Phichit for as long as he lived.   
  
  
  
  
***   
  
  
  
  
The day after the competition, Yuuri was waiting outside of Phichit’s hotel, as the Thai skater wandered up to him with his luggage.  “Alright, tour guide, I’ve got two days before Ciao Ciao comes back and hauls my ass to Bangkok.  Show me a good time.”   
  
  
  
They spent the whole day exploring all of Yuuri’s favorite haunts.  They dropped his stuff off at Yuuri’s apartment and then caught up, unable to stop laughing and chatting even long enough to wonder what they were planning on doing later that night.   
  
  
  
When Phichit came out of the bathroom in tight black jeans and a mesh top, Yuuri’s eyes widened.   
  
  
  
“We’re going clubbing!” the Thai skater declared.   
  
  
  
Balking, Yuuri muttered, “I don’t know, Phich…”   
  
  
  
“Come on,” his best friend quite literally dropped to his knees on the floor.  “When have I ever asked you for anything?”   
  
  
  
“A lot, and with little shame,” Yuuri mumbled.   
  
  
  
“I won, though!  Consider it my victory present.”   
  
  
  
Yuuri’s eyes closed, and he thought briefly of how nerve-racking hooking up with Viktor had been, yet how much fun he ended up having.   
  
  
  
“Alright, give me a little to get dressed.”   
  
  
  
Later that evening, through little more than nodding and whining in protest, Yuuri was walking through the club in tight jeans and a tight grey v-neck.   
  
  
  
Phichit and him wandered into the crowd, and very quickly Yuuri paled when he saw that Viktor was standing at one of the tables, talking with a few of the female singles skaters.   
  
  
  
Phichit saw that immediately, and his neck snapped back to Yuuri.  “Are you okay?”   
  
  
  
“Yeah,” Yuuri lied, feeling like a snake was burying itself in his belly.  Something akin to jealousy, but of course it wasn't jealousy.   
  
  
  
Was it?   
  
  
  
His friend eyed him for a moment, then decided upon something and grabbed Yuuri’s hand, marching over to Viktor.   
  
  
  
When they reached his table, Viktor looked up and was completely elated, raising his hands into the air. 

 

“Yuuri!  Just the man I wanted to see.  I was going to text you to ask you to meet me here!”

  
  
  
Though skeptical, Yuuri was a little distracted at the moment staring at Viktor’s outfit.  He was in tight red pants and a black v-neck, and the v in the neck went all the way down to his navel.  Yuuri’s brain was short-circuiting when he heard Phichit say his name to the female skaters.      
  
  
  
“My friend Yuuri here is letting me stay at his place for a few days.”   
  
  
  
Viktor looked between the two of them, Phichit to Yuuri, and suddenly grabbed Yuuri’s hand.   
  
  
  
“Let’s dance!”   
  
  
  
Stuttering, Yuuri was pulled to the dance floor, and looked back at Phichit for help, but he was already basically draped over one of the female skaters, looking quite pleased with himself.   
  
  
  
“Straight people,” Yuuri muttered darkly, though he didn’t actually bear Phichit any ill will, and Viktor stopped suddenly on the dance floor.  The lights were mostly blue around them, flashing in a variety of geometric patterns. The black light was making Viktor’s hair look especially blinding.   
  
  
  
Even so, Yuuri felt himself grinning unbearably widely at Viktor, because Viktor was watching him with hungry eyes.   
  
  
  
Unsure what to do, Yuuri tried to draw on his experience hooking up with people in college.  Then, it was a game, like a hunt.  Spot your target.  Gauge gayness level.  Walk up to them and ask to dance.  Grind into them until they were hard and desperate and you found some room or corner to get each other off.   
  
  
  
The first two on his list were already taken care of.  Yuuri knew his target, and he knew Viktor was interested.   
  
  
  
Yuuri decided that he better initiate, and turned around, pressing back against Viktor so that their bodies were virtually inseparable.  Yuuri used his one hand to stroke down the side of Viktor’s face, and Viktor started nibbling on his ear.   
  
  
  
“Yuuri, you’re just full of surprises.”   
  
  
  
Then he started moving, gyrating his ass in circles over Viktor’s crotch, and the other man whispered breathily, “Are you sure Phichit won’t mind?”   
  
  
  
Almost choking from laughter, Yuuri turned his head sideways to whisper into Viktor’s ear.  “Phichit is literally making out with one of the other skaters right now.”   
  
  
  
Sure enough, Phichit’s tongue was already down the tallest girl’s throat, and her friends were giggling and taking pictures.   
  
  
  
“Man moved fast,” Viktor gaped, then smiled, shaking his head.  “I was jealous for nothing, then.”   
  
  
  
Yuuri turned around then, slotting their legs together so that their crotches were pressed right against one another, and Viktor looked stunned, then just a little flustered.   
  
  
  
“I don’t know,” Yuuri said calmly, gyrating his hips again to get friction to where he needed it most, “It got us out here dancing, didn’t it?”   
  
  
  
Laughing, Viktor pressed a chaste kiss to Yuuri’s lips, making Yuuri’s heart flutter.   
  
  
  
Wait, flutter?   
  
  
  
What makes a heart flutter, anyway?   
  
  
  
Feelings   
  
  
  
“Shit,” Yuuri hissed, trying to block his mind from thinking about it anymore, but he knew that the cat was out of the bag, now.   
  
  
  
He liked Viktor.  Apparently, he liked Viktor more than just for sex, and now they’d have to discuss it.  Viktor staying the extra day was already above and beyond what Yuuri was expecting.  Now they were together again, and their growing hardnesses in their jeans would eventually have to… be taken care of.   
  
  
  
What then, though?  Viktor had the Grand Prix Final to worry about.     
  
  
  
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Yuuri said suddenly, and Viktor chuckled.     
  
  
  
“That’s okay.  I should’ve known better.  I was already basically guaranteed entry from my gold at Skate America.  It was probably nice for Phichit to get to be in first.”   
  
  
  
Phichit was going to the Grand Prix Final.  Yuuri could always…   
  
  
  
“It’s in Barcelona, right?  I could probably go.”   
  
  
  
The second it was out of his mouth, he regretted it.   
  
  
  
Viktor’s face brightened up.  “That would be so fun!  Barcelona is gorgeous around Christmastime!”   
  
  
  
Does that mean he wanted him there?  Or was he just offering up honest advice?   
  
  
  
Uncertain, Yuuri gasped as Viktor pressed into him just the right way, making Yuuri whisper, “Let’s go.”   
  
  
  
Yuuri wasn’t sure where he was going, but he knew he needed to go.  They ran to the back hallways, and Yuuri felt lust start to addle his brain as Viktor guided him down a flight of shadowy stairs.  This was clearly the storage area of the basement, where they kept extra chairs and props for events and theme nights.   
  
  
  
Viktor’s fingers quickly pressed against Yuuri’s shoulder, pushing him back with a smile.   
  
  
  
“There are so many things I want to do to you…”   
  
  
  
Chuckling, Yuuri let himself get led backwards, body tingling with anticipation.  “Then do them.  I’m all yours.”   
  
  
  
The terminology made Yuuri’s heart stop for a minute.  It was insinuating too much; if Viktor misinterpreted… but Viktor’s face only looked more excited.   
  
  
  
“Hmmm, how to get you back for yesterday…”   
  
  
  
Yuuri hit the wall, harder than probably intended, but it only made him more turned on.  Apparently, he liked it rough.   
  
  
  
Viktor started biting at Yuuri’s earlobe, whispering, “I could fuck you, right up against this wall, but I don’t have the proper materials for that.”   
  
  
  
Yuuri’s fingers were digging for purchase against Viktor’s back as suddenly Viktor lifted him up by the belt loops.  Yuuri’s legs went around Viktor’s waist, and he felt Viktor’s cock bob against his, making him sigh and wriggle to get more relief.   
  
  
  
“Or I could just take you apart until just before you come,” Viktor purred, nosing at the other side of Yuuri’s neck as Yuuri held onto Viktor for dear life, trying to grind into him.   
  
  
  
Getting frustrated now, Yuuri whined, “Viktor, you’re teasing me.”   
  
  
  
“Hmm, maybe I like teasing you,” the Russian admitted, biting at the skin on Yuuri’s neck.   
  
  
  
Grumbling, Yuuri huffed, “Viktor…”   
  
  
  
As he said that, Viktor dropped Yuuri onto the ground and unzipped his own jeans, guiding Yuuri’s hand into his pants to feel for his member.   
  
  
  
“See how much I want you?”   
  
  
  
Yuuri’s fingers felt out the length, then Viktor quickly slid his hands into Yuuri’s pants.  Once the two of them were properly fondling, Viktor pressed Yuuri back against the wall again, slotting their legs together like they’d been on the dance floor.

 

For a second, the feeling of being exposed like this, of so desperately needing each other, made them both freeze in the moment, searching for something in each other's eyes.  Eventually, though, their physical need outweighed the emotional need.

  
  
They ground up against each other while providing stimulation from their hands.  Their gasps and moans were swallowed up by the base from the music above them, and Yuuri couldn’t help but feel a little excited about the prospect of someone accidentally stumbling upon them…   
  
  
  
“I couldn’t stop thinking about us fucking the night before during the skate,” Viktor moaned, pressing their foreheads together, “I couldn’t stop thinking about the night before that, either.  Even now, I feel so turned on by the ghost of your mouth on me…”   
  
  
  
Chuckling in relief that he wasn’t the only one, Yuuri surged forward and captured Viktor’s mouth in a kiss, drawing away with Viktor’s bottom lip bitten between his teeth.  When their mouths separated with a wet pop, Yuuri whispered, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you either….” Yuuri trailed off as Viktor tugged him in just the right way, making him see stars and feeling the mounting arousal in his gut.   
  
  
  
They continued their attention, with the jerk of the wrist, fingers pinching and fingernails drawing along just the right places, until Yuuri felt Viktor tense, whispering, “Yuuri…” before spilling into Yuuri’s hand.   
  
  
  
Panting, Yuuri followed not long after that, and the two of them looked at each other’s hands pointedly.   
  
  
  
This is normally the part where someone would sexily offer to lick up the mess, but both of them were looking rather expectantly at the other before smiling dopily at each other.   
  
  
  
“How much will they judge us in the bathroom when we go to wash our hands?” Yuuri asked, nervous but still riding the high of the orgasm.   
  
  
  
“They’ll just be jealous,” Viktor teased, and they stealthily snuck up the stairs towards the bathroom.  At some point Viktor started acting like a spy with a finger gun, and Yuuri couldn’t stop laughing, so much so that he had the clutch the banister with his clean hand so as not to topple over.   
  
  
  
They washed their hands side-by-side, trying their best not to make eye contact with the others in the bathroom, even though everyone was eyeing them with both accusation and respect.   
  
  
  
Yuuri couldn’t help but feel like he was high on something, and that something was Viktor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I promise that miscommunication will not be a central problem with this fic. Despite the fact that they haven't exactly dealt with the elephant in the room yet, remember how busy Viktor will be training for the Grand Prix Final.
> 
> Next time: Phichit and Yuuri have a hard talk. 
> 
> As usual, yell at me in the comments if there's something you want to see or if you have questions/concerns
> 
> If you like this, check out my other YOI fics! If you like the mental health angle of this one, check out "The Silver Devils Play". If you like the smutty bits, check out literally any of my other fics. If you want a good cry, check out "Tabula Rasa" because I literally had to purchase tissues en masse to finish that one.


	6. Keeping Score

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Phichit have a hard conversation. Later, Yuri returns to Hasetsu, and makes a decision about his relationship with Viktor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all my lovelies<3
> 
> This chapter is going to be another hard one- there is an intervention in it, as well as some difficult decisions being made. If at any point this chapter makes you feel some type of way, I'll have a summary at the end. However, the section after the extra star "****" will no longer be dealing with the topic as intensely and will be safe for your reading pleasure
> 
> I've written up to chapter eight of this fic- I'm just doing some final editing and outlining. If there's anything in particular you want to see, get in your requests soon so I can account for it in the final chapters:)
> 
> As usual, I do not own Yuri! on Ice, though I do own the soundtrack and listen to it on repeat

The next morning, as Yuuri rose early and started up the coffee, Phichit grumbled something about his mouth tasting like… “What was that?”

 

“Missed chances,” Phichit responded pettily, falling into a seat at the tiny kitchen table in a huff.

 

Apparently, while Viktor and Yuuri were… occupied… Phichit struck out with the female skater and ended up in a dance-off with a few of the other guys on the dance floor.

 

Viktor and Yuuri found him mid-worm surrounded by screaming fans.

 

As Yuuri poured them each cups of coffee and sat down at the table, he knew that he was being stared at.  

 

“Listen, I know what you’re going to say…”

 

“No, I don’t think you do,” Phichit sighed, finger tracing the top of his mug, wisps of steam surrounding his wrist, “Just let me talk, no interruptions for a few minutes.  Then I’ll let you have the floor as long as you want.  Then we’re going to make a game plan.  That’s how this is going.”

 

The feeling of a loss of control made Yuuri bristle.  “If I don’t?”

 

Phichit held his phone up, and Yuuri saw three contacts that he hadn’t realized he’d given his friend.

 

“I call your family and they come from Hasetsu and get you.”

 

“If I run?”

 

The steam rising was making curlicues in the air.  “Why don’t you at least listen to my spiel?  I practiced it quite a few times.”

 

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri nodded.  “Okay.”

 

Phichit rubbed his hands together, then sighed for a moment, collecting himself.  “Wait, I have it written down…”

 

Pulling his phone out, he clicked around a few apps, and Yuuri felt an odd mixture of affection and sadness overwhelm him.

 

“Yuuri,” Phichit began, looking up at his friend before continuing, “I’ve known you for years.  We’re best friends, and you mean everything to me.  Even though you don’t skate anymore, I know I can rely on you to help me clean up my program, or talk obsessively about the competition.  When I need a shoulder to cry on, or lean drunkenly onto, you’re my first call.”

 

Emotion was welling up in Yuuri.  Phichit was right; this was not how he was expecting this to go.

 

“In all truth, watching you begin to spiral with this eating disorder last year took me completely by surprise.  I always thought that those suffering with eating disorders were these far away people that I wasn’t exposed to.  Yet here you were, suffering right in front of my eyes.  My best friend, quite literally wasting away.”

 

Yuuri found himself caressing his midsection, like he was looking for something that wasn’t there.

 

“I love you.  I want to help you.  I will do anything in my power to help get you back on track.  I’m not expecting it to be easy, or that you’ll completely change overnight.  It’s going to be fucking difficult.  However, I’m going to be there every step of the way.  Even when I’m training day in and day out for the Grand Prix, you can call me and I’ll be there.  When you need someone to convince you to eat, I’ll be there.  When you need someone to tell you that you are perfect, just the way you are, I’ll be there.”

 

There was a pause, and Yuuri realized that Phichit’s eyes were misting up.  “I’d do anything to help you get better, because at the rate you’re going, if I don’t help you, soon I won’t have a best friend at all.  That simply isn’t an option for me.”

 

Silence followed.  The leaky faucet dripped into the sink, little  _ plunks _ of sound.  The heater hissed and stuttered.  Phichit locked his phone and set it on the table, looking at Yuuri with a measured expression.

 

There was so much Yuuri wanted to say, and so few ways to say them correctly.  

 

They sat sipping their coffee for a few moments before Yuuri whispered, “Would you, um, mind going out and getting groceries with me?  I don’t exactly keep much food in the apartment.”

 

Phichit’s face softened, and he looked like he was fighting to maintain a neutral expression.  “Sure.  Whatever you need.”

  
  


***

  
  


Phichit left later that evening for his flight back to Bangkok, and Yuuri was staring at the chicken cutlet and sauteed spinach he made for dinner.

 

It smelled divine.  Yuuri’s stomach was growling and begging for it.  Yuuri had eaten three meals that day.  Three tiny meals, but progress always needs a first step.

 

Then, he cut up the chicken and took a bite, feeling tears come to his eyes as he whispered, “Food is so good.  What was I thinking?”

 

It was a hollow attempt to make himself want to eat, but it was just enough to spurn him for another bite.  He only ate three quarters of it, but he’d consumed more calories today than he had in far too long.

 

His stomach protested weakly that it was not prepared for this.  His mind was whirring with numbers and weights and calories.

 

When he checked his phone, though, later that night while in bed, there was a message from Phichit.

 

_ P: Don’t forget to call me.  You’re never an inconvenience for me.  Wish me luck with Ciao Ciao! _

 

Snickering, Yuuri curled into a ball, pulling his blanket over him and wondering when it gets easier.

 

The answer eluded him at the time, but it was this: day by day, bite by bite.

  
  


***

  
  


Yuuri was posing shirtless with two other guys in a pair of jeans.  It was an advertisement for the pants.  The stagers were bustling here and there, spraying them with material to make their skin shiny, and coiffing their hair to look just the right amount of messy.

 

There were a thousand things running through his mind right now.  He’d eaten, though inconsistently, most meals in the last week.  Though he knew that it was in his head, he wondered if the camera could tell that he’d gained three pounds.

 

At the end of the shoot, he saw a text from Viktor.

 

_ V: Thinking about you.  Would love to see you in Barcelona in a few weeks.  If you’re there, my eros will be perfect. _

 

It was then that he set a goal.  It was then that he made a hard call.

 

“Hi, mom.  It’s me.  I’m coming home.”

  
  


***

  
  


His mother met him at the door, smiling with her arms open.

 

However, before Hiroko could hug her son, Vicchan bounded out and started clawing to get up Yuuri’s leg.  Laughing, Yuuri hugged Vicchan to him closely as he wandered into the inn.

 

His whole family was sitting in the living room, oddly quiet, as Yuuri pet his dog tenderly.

 

“I printed out a meal plan,” Hiroko started, laying out some papers on the table, “Also, I called a doctor who is going to start doing weekly check-ins with you.  They have therapists on staff that you can speak to at any time of day.”

 

Mari came over to the other side of the table, throwing her arm around him.  “You looked cuter with a little more junk in your trunk anyway.”

 

Toshiya and Hiroko clasped each other’s hands as Hiroko stated, “We’re here to help you get better, darling.  Whatever you need.”

  
  


***

  
  


Weeks passed.  

 

It wasn’t easy.  It was actually pretty touch and go for most of it.  Yuuri spent a lot of nights with his stomach adjusting to having more food put into it.  He gained weight like crazy at first as his metabolism adjusted, and there was more than one night that Yuuri scream-cried by himself in the shower, kneeling on the ground, clutching at the newfound fat on his body.

 

It hurt.  Every day was a chore.  However, after a little while, it started to feel like second nature.  

 

Yuuri was re-learning how to love himself.  He was relearning how to live.

 

Of course it would be a bit of an adjustment, but he knew, somehow, that it would be worth it.  
  


 

**** 

  
  


When Yuuri landed in Barcelona, Mari in tow, he turned on her suddenly.  

 

“You have to promise to behave.”

 

Snorting, Mari muttered, “Minako will be here tomorrow.  Then I’ll be with her most of the time and you can fuck Viktor as much as you want.”

 

“Mari!” Yuuri gasped, going bright red.  “I’m here to support Phichit.”

 

“Mmm-hmm.  Is that why an attractive Russian is waving at us?”

 

Stunned, Yuuri turned around and saw that, despite the fact that it was four days before the Final, Viktor was standing in the airport, mouth open in a heart, holding a sign that said  _ Viktor’s Muse. _

 

A few people were taking pictures of Viktor, clearly recognizing him, and Yuuri buried his head in his hands.  

 

“I’m going to kill him.”

 

As the two of them wandered up to Viktor, he dropped his sign and enveloped Yuuri in a tight hug.  Pressure and tension that Yuuri didn’t even know was there leaked out of his body like too much helium.

 

Then Viktor pulled back, offering up a hand to Mari.  “Pleasure to meet you!”

 

When Mari took his hand, he brought it up to his mouth to kiss, and Mari shook her head.  “You’re exactly what I expected, Viktor Nikiforov.”

 

Stunned, Viktor quickly recovered.  “What?  Devilishly handsome?  Chivalrous?  Polite?”

 

“Extra,” Mari smiled widely as Viktor laughed.  Unthinkingly, Viktor’s hand found Yuuri’s, and Yuuri felt himself melt at the contact.

 

Viktor and him had planned for Yuuri to stay with Viktor throughout the competition.  They hadn’t exactly discussed what that meant, but Yuuri could tell that there was something between them, some unspoken connection that went deeper than a few random hookups a few weeks ago.

 

They were all staying at the same hotel, though, and when Yuuri departed from Mari, Viktor stood a little ways off patiently.

 

“I want you to text me a picture of your meals,” Mari said seriously, “Call me if you need me, okay?”

 

Yuuri nodded, hugging her quickly.  “I’ll be fine, Mari.  Enjoy the next few days, okay?”

 

Breathing deeply, she smiled halfheartedly.  “An older sister’s work is never done, kid.”

 

When Viktor started leading Yuuri towards their room, he kept glancing back at Yuuri, like the other man would disappear.

 

“I was glad you could come,” Viktor said honestly, blue eyes sparkling with happiness.

 

“Me, too,” Yuuri agreed, and when they got to the hotel room, Viktor quickly helped Yuuri unpack, explaining where everything was and nervously adjusting the pillows.

 

Biting his lip, Yuuri asked, “Viktor?  Are you okay?”

 

“Honestly?” Viktor sat onto the bed, gazing at Yuuri like he was in a dream, “I’ve been more excited waiting for you than I have been in quite some time.  Even considering that I’m going for my sixth consecutive Grand Prix Final gold medal.”

 

Possessed, Yuuri wandered over to Viktor, stroking back his silver hair between his fingers.  “I never knew you hated skating that much.”

 

Shocked, Viktor reached and pulled Yuuri’s hands in his own, gazing up at Yuuri with a sad smile.  

 

“I don’t hate skating, Yuuri.  I love skating.  That wasn’t me saying that skating is so terrible that you look okay in comparison.  That’s me saying that despite how much I love skating, I love spending time with you more.”

 

The instantaneous heat that surged through Yuuri was more than he could bear.  He captured Viktor’s lips in a kiss, tears forming in his eyes.  

 

“I love spending time with you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SKIPPING FRIENDS:
> 
> Phichit explains to Yuuri that he loves him too much to watch him suffer and waste away. Yuuri realizes that he needs to change and makes some major life choices that help in his recovery, including moving back home to Hasetsu and coming clean to his parents.
> 
> Next Chapter: Yuuri and Viktor spend some time together in Barcelona before the GPF
> 
> If you like this, check out my other YOI fics!


	7. Coming Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Viktor enjoy the next morning together in the hotel room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello hello! I have a couple of fun announcements for you guys.
> 
> First, I'm going to be participating in the Yuri!!! on Ice Halloween Week. I already finished the draft of my Day 1 Challenge: Trick-or-Treat. Check out the collection of writers! The fun starts tomorrow, officially!
> 
> ALSO: CALLING ALL ARTISTS: I'm looking for anyone who does fan art for this or any of my fics to share with me/tag me (tumblr: painted-lady12 and twitter: painted_lady12). If you haven't done fan art yet, but are feeling inspired, I can cut a deal: anyone who does art and submits it can also submit a prompt. I'll complete the prompt in a one-off fanfic in under 2,000 words, and feature your art on the respective fic. If you have questions or want clarification, just message me on tumblr/twitter. This is just me really wanting to see art of my version of the boys. If not, that's totally fine too! I'm just happy you guys are here<3
> 
> Finally, this fic is looking to perhaps have an extra chapter/epilogue. I'm still deciding about the ending right now. However, most of the rest is drafted, so stay tuned for updates.
> 
> A little note about the eating disorder: you guys have all been so positive and supportive about Yuuri's eating disorder and his desire to get help. I was a little worried about the last chapter, but you guys proved to me that there was nothing to worry about. Thanks for being awesome<3
> 
> As usual, I do not own Yuri! on Ice

Viktor Nikiforov was supposed to be practicing.  That was why he had come to Barcelona early, anyway.

 

However, Yakov was surprised to find that the hotel room he himself had booked for Viktor had been abandoned.  The only one of his skaters that he could track down was Yuri Plisetsky, who was being mobbed by a group of his fans.

 

“Yura!” Yakov barked, and Yuri rolled his eyes, posing for more selfies.

 

Yakov fought through the screaming girls in cat ears to get to Yuri, who was now looking a little pissed.

 

“What the hell, old man?  I’m busy.”

 

“Where’s Viktor?”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes.  “I saw him take his stuff to catch a cab last night.”

 

“I have a private practice time reserved for you this morning, though!  Where is he?”

  
  


***

  
  


Viktor had woken up at seven in the morning and still couldn’t stop staring at Yuuri Katsuki.

 

The younger man was so serene in his sleep.  After Yuuri had shown up the day before, they both collapsed from exhaustion of traveling.  Throughout the night they came together and moved apart multiple times, cuddling, then rolling away.

 

It was maddening.  Viktor wanted nothing more than to simply feel Yuuri on his fingertips, to trace designs along the bare skin of his torso.

 

Viktor Nikiforov was very sure that he must be in heaven.  

 

His phone rang, and he grabbed for it to turn it off, but Yuuri was already stirring, smiling dreamily before his eyes cracked open and squinted at Viktor.

 

“Good morning,” Viktor murmured, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s nose.

 

Yuuri laughed, bringing his hands to his face.  “I don’t even remember falling asleep…”

 

Viktor did.  He remembered looking over and seeing Yuuri passed out, glasses still on.  He’d carefully removed the frames, setting them aside and cradled Yuuri’s face reverently.

 

A fear that he had reared its ugly head at that exact moment, as Viktor pondered what to say about breakfast.

 

“Yuuri…”

 

“...I’m feeling pancakes,” Yuuri said happily, grinning from ear to ear.  “What about you?”   
  


Dumbfounded, Viktor brought Yuuri’s hand up to kiss it.  “Breakfast room service, coming right up.”

  
  


***

  
  


Yuuri had eaten a lot of pancakes in his life.  His mother was especially fond of crepes, and despite Celestino’s many lectures about carbs, his old coach would make them extra fluffy, with blueberries.

 

However, eating pancakes with Viktor Nikiforov topped the list.  With the other man’s silver hair messy, and his face full of early morning innocence and wonder, it was another experience entirely.

 

In fact, at some point Yuuri saw Viktor eyeing him oddly, and Yuuri said, “Is there something on my face?”

 

“No, no,” Viktor quickly tried to recover, stuffing pancake into his face to shut himself up.

 

Smiling tightly, Yuuri put his fork down, saying, “I’m in recovery.”

 

Blinking, Viktor’s face was unreadable.  “What prompted that?”

 

Yuuri nibbled thoughtfully, then responded, “I realized that there were people that need me.  I can’t help them if I don’t help myself.”

 

“It was that simple?” Viktor asked skeptically.

 

“No,” Yuuri felt wary, but knew he needed to clear the air, “It’s difficult.  Everything in me is telling me that eating this pancakes is wrong.  That I don’t deserve it.  However, it gets easier with every meal.  So I’m fighting through it.”

 

Viktor got up suddenly and came to Yuuri’s side of the table, pressing a kiss to the younger man’s forehead, who blushed and closed his eyes, content.

 

Yuuri wasn’t sure how they went from that sweet moment to twenty minutes later… where he ended up with the whipped cream from the pancakes spread out over his thighs.

 

The Russian man was licking it up, sending shivers up Yuuri’s naked body.  The heat from Viktor’s tongue was set in sharp contrast to the chill from the cream.  Viktor’s tongue was scorching on Yuuri’s body, making him pant and hiss at the contact.

 

“Viktor,” Yuuri whispered happily, feeling his cheeks stretch over a goofy smile, “What are you doing?”

 

“Hmmm, let me think,” Viktor ghosted his fingers up the sides of Yuuri’s legs, lifting them gently, “I told you that you were delicious, then proceeded to undress you.  Then, I realized I wanted something sweet.  So I improvised with licking that something sweet off of you.”

 

Gasping as Viktor’s teeth nipped at skin, he whispered, “Ah, Viktor…”

 

“I love it when you say my name,” Viktor smiled against Yuuri’s skin.

 

_ I love saying your name. _

 

Viktor licked the last of the whipped cream off of Yuuri’s inner thigh, and Yuuri was slowly hardening with the attention, even though Viktor hadn’t done anything but lick his legs.  It was minorly embarrassing, but Viktor just seemed to smile at his growing erection.

 

“How about I get undressed now, too?  Is that okay?”

 

Yuuri blinked up at him.  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

 

There was a tension in Viktor’s shoulders that Yuuri hadn’t even noticed, and it dissipated with Yuuri’s words.

 

“I don’t know.  I’m being silly,” Viktor’s soft blue eyes held Yuuri’s as he slowly removed his clothes.  With each swish of fabric Yuuri felt himself get a little hotter, enjoying the view immensely.

 

Then, as Viktor was stepping out of his sleeping pants, he hopped once, twice, then almost tumbled onto the floor with them around his ankles.  Yuuri snorted laughing, hands immediately coming to his face in embarrassment.

 

Viktor shot Yuuri a look, and Yuuri defended himself between giggles.  “You lost your balance.  You’re a figure skater!”

 

“You snorted like a piggy!” Viktor countered, but both of them were smiling.  The sunlight peeking through the curtains in their hotel room hit Viktor’s body in such a way that it looked like a little part of him was a slice of heaven, carved out just for Yuuri, framing the Russian man in shadow and gold.

 

Gold, like the many gold medals that decorated Viktor’s skating history.  He would be taking the gold with Yuuri, too.

 

Viktor crawled along Yuuri’s body, taking care to suck kisses into his skin as he went, until he was hovering over Yuuri’s face, gazing intently.

 

Then, he tapped Yuuri’s forehead.  “What’s going on in your head?”

 

“I was thinking about how if having me was a competition, you’d win gold.”

 

There was a moment of silence, before Viktor rolled over next to Yuuri, laughing hysterically.  “Oh god, Yuuri, was that a pickup line?”

 

Blushing furiously, Yuuri mumbled, “I thought it was cute.”

 

“Oh, it was,” Viktor’s arm came to wrap around Yuuri’s midsection, his lips finding Yuuri’s shoulder, half-hard member pressing against Yuuri’s leg, “It was so cute.”

 

They laughed like that for a little bit, until their arousal quickly overtook their senses, making talking secondary to a more pressing need.  Viktor kissed down Yuuri’s chest, whispering, “How do we want to do this?”

 

Yuuri was fidgeting, remembering all the fantasies he’d come up with while envisioning him and Viktor locked in this same hotel room…

 

“One at a time,” Yuuri breathed, as Viktor lifted Yuuri’s legs up again.  “What are you…”

 

Viktor was licking his lips, staring at Yuuri splayed out in front of him so lewdly.  “I kind of really want to get you back for fucking me…”

 

Squirming, Yuuri couldn’t help but enjoy the way Viktor was eyeing him, but knew just how much he hate bottoming.

 

“Viktor…”

 

“Right, sorry,” Viktor pressed a kiss to the inside of Yuuri’s knee, “One at a time, then?”

 

Relieved, Yuuri nodded, as Viktor started licking down his legs again, pressing a tentative tongue to Yuuri’s sac.

 

Yuuri hissed, not used to the feeling, closing his eyes and trying to decide how he felt about it.

 

Then Viktor sucked one of his balls into his mouth, Yuuri’s breathing became erratic, feeling himself jump to full hardness in seconds.

 

“Hmmm, Yuuri,” Viktor said as he popped off.  “You’re reacting so well for me.”

 

Yuuri felt his self control slip away, starting to whisper incoherently as Viktor pressed heated lips to the tip of his cock, drool from the other man sliding down…

 

Viktor made quicky work of Yuuri, sucking and dipping and sliding his teeth delicately in just the right places.  Yuuri was a mess beneath Viktor, moisture beading on his forehead and chest, body on fire, as Viktor’s fingers dug into Yuuri’s legs as he continues to suck him down…

 

When Yuuri came, and Viktor swallowed him down with fervor, Yuuri felt like he was coming down from some type of high.

 

“Wow,” Yuuri rasped as Viktor trailed kisses back up to lay down on top of Yuuri lazily.

 

“Yes, I’ve been told I’m good at that.”

 

“I don’t know,” Yuuri said suddenly, noncommittally, “I’d give it an 8/10.”

 

Viktor lightly whacked him in the chest as they both laughed, but Yuuri suddenly got a fire in his eye, flipping them over to hover above Viktor.

 

The Russian stopped laughing abruptly, gazing up at Yuuri with wide blue eyes open like saucers.

 

Yuuri’s fingers trailed along the planes of Viktor’s chest.  His inner fifteen-year-old was completely enraptured, gazing at his idol in such a vulnerable state.

 

This time, they had made a decision to spend this time together.  It wasn’t a heat of the moment fling, or a hook-up fueled by jealousy.  It was real and planned and meaningful, and Yuuri was still completely amazed that he was even here.

 

“I don’t think you know how beautiful you are,” Yuuri whispered, ghosting his lips over Viktor’s nipples, making Viktor squirm a little.  “I’ve known for so long.  I’ve been watching you for so many years.”

 

Viktor’s chest was rising and falling in rapid succession now, listening to what Yuuri was saying with rapt attention, and responding very… positively.

 

Yuuri moved his fingers to graze along Viktor’s hardened cock.  “Do you like when I talk about that, Viktor?”

 

Nodding, Viktor whispered breathily, “Yuuri…”

 

“I used to watch you as a kid,” Yuuri normally would freak out about telling Viktor something like this, but in this morning light, with this man at his mercy, it felt… safe, “I was so amazed at what you could do with your body…”

 

Yuuri’s fingers started stroking Viktor’s cock leisurely, pressing sucking kisses into his neck.

 

Viktor’s fingers found their way into Yuuri’s hair, tugging at the dark strands lightly, “Yuuri, please…”

 

Pulling away, Yuuri gave Viktor’s cock a hard squeeze and jerked his wrist, making Viktor yell out, “Fuck!”

 

“Is that what you wanted, Viktor?” Yuuri asked innocently, and Viktor growled low in his throat.

 

“Mouth.”

 

Grinning, Yuuri trailed his fingers along Viktor’s arms, making him break out in goosebumps as he lowered himself down to breathe hotly against Viktor’s member.

 

His breath was teasing Viktor, he knew it.  

 

Then, Viktor did something Yuuri didn’t expect, and pushed himself up into Yuuri’s open mouth while forcing Yuuri’s head down slightly.

 

Yuuri gasped at first, and Viktor pulled back, whispering, “Sorry, sorry, I should have…”

 

Ignoring him, Yuuri swallowed Viktor down in one go, guiding Viktor’s hands back to his hair.

 

“Oh, did you like that, Yuuri?” Viktor mused, somehow able to form a coherent sentence even though he couldn’t see straight, couldn’t see anything past Yuuri swallowing him down, heated mouth tightening and pressing in all the right places.  Then, Yuuri used his saliva to add his fingers to the mix, focusing on the head by swirling his tongue.

 

When Viktor came this time, Yuuri kept himself locked on him, swallowing the liquid down.

 

When Yuuri came back up, hair a mess, lips red and swollen, Viktor guided him to settled between his legs, chest to chest.

 

They laid there like that, quietly letting their breathing even out.  At some point, Viktor’s fingers found their way to Yuuri’s hair, and was stroking it gently, humming something softly to himself.

 

“What song is that?”

 

Viktor glanced down at Yuuri and said softly, “Beyonce.  Halo.”

 

Yuuri nodded, then his eyes drifted shut.  Soon he was breathing evenly and softly, breath tickling Viktor’s skin, as Viktor sang softly out loud, “ _ Remember those walls I built, well baby they’re tumbling down.  They didn’t even put up a fight, they didn’t even make a sound.” _

 

The younger man slept on, and Viktor positively melted at the sight and feeling of having Yuuri all to himself in this intimate way.

 

They would have to talk, later.  There was so much they both needed to say.

 

For now, though, Viktor just watched Yuuri, completely absorbed by how perfect he was again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literal just pure fluff and smut. This chapter was so pure and I loved it.
> 
> ALSO CHECK OUT THIS LOVELY FANART FROM sereliahs ON TUMBLR:
> 
>  
> 
> <https://painted-lady12.tumblr.com/post/166795839467/guys-look-at-this-lovely-fan-art-done-by>  
> 
> 
> Next time: Viktor faces repercussions from avoiding Yakov days before the Grand Prix
> 
> If you like this, check out my other YOI fics! There are a ton for your reading pleasure. Enjoy!


	8. Clearing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Viktor spend time with their friends in Barcelona

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my loves.
> 
> I'm speechless. This fic has hit 5,000 views. Like, I'm still in awe that you guys are willing to go on this wild ride with me. I'm so happy and flattered and emotional. Thank you thank you thank you. 
> 
> For those of you who have reached out to me on my twitter and tumblr, your comments and messages have been so wonderful. I'm so incredibly grateful to each of you. Comments and messages help remind me why I'm doing this, so reaching out is always appreciated.
> 
> This chapter is the beginning of the fourth and final arc of the fic. The next two chapters are set to be on the longer side, but aren't done quite yet. I'll post them when I'm sure I've given the proper closure on this story.
> 
> As usual, I do not own Yuri! on Ice

Viktor was awoken suddenly by sharp knocking at the door.

 

Groaning, Yuuri rolled over, muttering, “Five more minutes.”

 

They’d lazed most of the day away, sleeping and making out in turn.  It was two in the afternoon, and someone was at the door.

 

“It better be life or death,” Viktor muttered grumpily as he threw on the room’s robe, tying it in the front and looking through the peephole.

 

Viktor’s stomach dropped down to the floor as he turned around in a blind panic, making Yuuri wake all the way up.

 

“Viktor, what…”

 

“Shh!  Bathroom,” he ushered Yuuri towards the bathroom unceremoniously and closed the door behind him, leaving Yuuri to stand naked on the cold tile, still squinting from tiredness.

 

Suddenly, Yuuri heard the door open, and a gruff voice say, “Did you think you could hide your whereabouts from me, Viktor?  Did you forget about that tracking app on your phone?”

 

It was Yakov, Yuuri realized.  He started turning unbelievably red at the thought of the other man opening the door… Yuuri wanted to lock it, but knew that the clicking sound might give him away.

 

“Yakov, I can explain…”

 

“Where are they?” Yakoc said angrily, and Yuuri could hear the older man turning the room over.  

 

“Who?” Viktor teased, but Yuuri was completely naked in the bathroom, and it was only a matter of time before…

 

The handle of the bathroom door jiggled, and Yuuri squeaked and grabbed it, holding it tightly from behind twisted.

 

“She’s a strong escort,” Yakov complemented, and Yuuri was so shocked that he accidentally let go of the doorknob, and it flung open, knocking Yakov off his bearings, adjusting his hat to see…

 

Yuuri grabbed a towel and wrapped it around himself, blushing all the way down his body.

 

“Oh,” was all the older man said, observing Yuuri carefully.  “That would make sense.  The escort is a man.”

 

Yuuri choked a little, saying loudly, “I am  _ not  _ an escort!”

 

Viktor jumped between the two of them, hands out in surrender.  “This is Yuuri Katsuki.  He competed in the Grand Prix Final last year.”

 

Blinking, Yakov peered pointedly over Viktor’s shoulder.  “Huh, he does look like that kid who came in last.  Where did you pick him up?”

 

“Yakov, can you leave so that we can at least get dressed?  I think our… current state is distressing him.”

 

Yuuri did feel distressed, but moreso about the fact that Yakov had seen him buck naked a few moments ago.  With the towel, he was feeling less insecure.

 

“Fine.  I’ll be back in in a minute or two.  Don’t lock me out or I’m calling the police,” Yakov grunted, exiting the room.

 

Viktor visibly deflated, rounding on Yuuri, looking him over in concern.  “Are you okay?”

 

“Does Yakov not know you’re gay?”

 

Biting his lip, it was clear that was not what Viktor was expecting to hear.  “He… knows?  We just don’t really discuss it.”

 

Yuuri nodded, stepping out into the room and tracking some clothes down to throw on and look decent.  Viktor just pulled on a pair of pants, preferring to keep his chest bare.

 

Then, Viktor pulled Yuuri in towards him, hugging him close.  “Don’t let him intimidate you, alright?  I decided to avoid him today, not you.”

 

The younger man nodded against Viktor’s chest, taking a deep breath and pulling away.  He sat down on the bed, feeling like he was about to get “the talk” from his parents.

 

Instead, Viktor let in an aggravated Russian man, which was probably eight times worse.

 

Viktor settled onto the bed next to Yuuri, grabbing for Yuuri’s fingers unthinkingly.  Yakov eyed the connection and didn’t comment. 

 

“I’m disappointed in you, Vitya.  You’re supposed to be setting a precedent for older skates to keep on doing the sport.  Instead, you’re in here fucking a previous competitor.”

 

Viktor tightened his grip on Yuuri, but didn’t flinch.  “I’m sorry, Yakov, but I decided that I didn’t need to practice today.”

 

Yakov had an artery on his forehead that threatened to burst.  “You… decided?”

 

“Yes.”

 

The coach looked completely enraged, and Yuuri shrunk a little unthinkingly.  

 

“You are going to get down to the rink and get some practice in.  I was able to squeeze in an hour at seven.  You  _ will  _ be there.  If you’re not, I’ll drag you there by your ears.”

 

Yuuri was shaking like a leaf, and had no idea how Viktor was still sitting so calmly, even smiling!

 

With a grunt, Yakov stomped out of the room.  The second he was gone, Viktor laid back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

 

“Are you okay?” Yuuri asked gently, laying back with him.  Viktor nodded, then a mischievous grin appeared on his face.  

 

“Yakov said I had to be there.  He didn’t say I had to be there alone.”

  
  


***

  
  


Yuuri was standing on the ice, feeling something strange stir in his chest.

 

It was the rink where they’d be airing the Final in a few days.  There would be cameras all trained on this ice, thousands of people cheering in the stands.

 

Yuuri could feel it under his skin, the buzzing of anticipation, the feeling of eyes on him.  It was both exhilarating and terrifying, and he imagined himself in this same spot…

 

A tune sung out in his head.  As Viktor was being yelled at by Yakov to focus and clean up his step sequence, Yuuri found himself beginning a routine that he had been practicing for months.

 

He was still getting his strength back, so it wasn’t perfect, but it was better than it had been.  Yuuri let himself go through the motions, hearing the  _ Stay Close to Me _ song slide through his head softly.

 

At some point during the routine, he felt arms encircle him and guide him through the motions.  It was Viktor; he could feel the other man’s breath, the other man’s whisper as Viktor guided Yuuri into an improvised version of the routine.

 

It was a little awkward, but soon Viktor was whispering softly about lifting Yuuri, and despite the fact that Yuuri would never normally do something like that, he found that he was letting Viktor lift him in the air, guiding him back down.

 

When they stopped, Yuuri and Viktor were laughing, spinning around each other then stopping short, wrapped up in each other.

 

“Vitya, keep your hands to yourself!  Practice this routine!!!”

 

Viktor was smiling, and pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead.  “I’ve got to get back.  I want to continue this later though, da?”

 

Yuuri nodded in a daze, feeling the ghost of Viktor’s lips on his forehead.

 

In all the times he pictured Viktor while performing this program, he never imagined it would finish like that.

  
  


***

  
  


Yuuri was walking around Barcelona with Phichit, his friend babbling about all the things we was worried about with the Final.

 

They were shopping, and before Yuuri knew it strong arms slid around him from behind.  If it wasn’t for the feeling of recognition, Yuuri would have panicked.

 

“Viktor!  Are you ready to get your ass handed to you?”  Phichit was grinning widely, clearly trying to appear calm even though he was internally fanboying.  

 

Yuuri guided himself out of Viktor’s embrace, turning to press a soft kiss to Viktor’s lips.  “You know who I’m rooting for.”

 

Phichit puffed up his chest proudly.  “Yeah!  I came first.  Bros before… bros?  Hoes?  How does that work?”

 

Chuckling, Viktor entwined his fingers with Yuuri, looking thoughtful.  “Chums before bums?”

 

Gasping, Yuuri muttered, “Viktor!” as Phichit and Viktor doubled over in laughter.

 

“I guess that works!” Phichit conceded.  

 

“Chris is going to meet us at the restaurant.  Is that okay?”  Viktor was looking over at both Phichit and Yuuri as they wandered down the streets of the sparkling city.

 

“Sure,” Phichit nodded enthusiastically.  “If we’re all going to be there together, I should invite Otabek and Yuri, too!”

 

“Not JJ?” Viktor teased, and Phichit just eyed him with disdain.

 

They found themselves at a beautiful cafe, chatting easily.  Yuuri and Viktor were still holding hands under the table, and their fingers were constantly moving: massaging the other’s wrist, sliding down the plane of the palm.  Yuuri felt so at peace with the connection.

 

When Christphe Giacometti walked in, though, he immediately pointed at the hidden connection.  “Ha!  I knew that Viktor had a new toy!”

 

Bristling, Yuuri turned to see Christophe saunter towards them, placing his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder.  “Not that being Vitya’s toy is a bad time, right?”

 

“He’s not my toy,” Viktor growled lowly, making Chris back off a little, stunned.

 

Phichit, Yuuri, and Chris were all watching Viktor expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate, before two other people wandered in and plopped down at the table.

 

“Sup,” Yuri nodded to them, and Otabek waved solemnly.  

 

Yuuri felt anxiety start to thrum through his veins.  It was a threefold trigger: seeing all of his past competitors, hearing Chris call him a “toy”, and knowing that he would have to eat soon.

 

His fingers tightened their grip on Viktor’s, and the other man moved his hand to rub soothing circles into his knee.

 

Everyone was keeping up their own microcosm of conversation, and Chris had settled into Viktor’s other side, elbow on the table and eyeing Yuuri with bright eyes.

 

“So, Viktor, how long have you been seeing Yuuri?”

 

The other conversations halted immediately as everyone looked over to them expectantly.

 

Yuuri turned bright red, shifting uncomfortably.

 

Giving Chris a very serious look, he responded neutrally, “We’re still figuring it out, Chris.  Leave it alone.”

 

“It has to be serious, though,” Chris prodded, hand on Viktor’s forearm, “Nothing else would make you miss practice a few days before the final.”

 

Yurio balked.  “He was why you weren’t at practice the other day?  Yakov almost had my head, Viktor!”

 

Chuckling, Viktor gently tugged his arm away from Chris’ grasp.  “I’m sure it had  _ nothing  _ to do with your performance, kitten.”

 

Snorting, Yurio crossed his arms temperamentally, when Phichit piped up, “So, look at all these cool pictures I got today!  Anyone else go sightseeing?”

 

The conversation veered off for now, but Yuuri felt Chris’ eyes on him, calculating and thoughtful.

 

At the end of dinner, Yuuri and Viktor walked a little ways behind everyone else back in the direction of their hotels, when Viktor muttered, “I’m sorry about Chris.  He can be a little too forward.”

 

Biting his lip, Yuuri nodded.  He only was able to eat a small portion of his meal, and even that was a struggle.  However, he tried.  A constant cycle of guilt and anxiety was swirling around his head.

 

When they got back to the hotel, Viktor suddenly gasped.  “Oh!  I have to check in with Yakov about something.  Yuuri, you have the key to the room, right?”

 

Yuuri nodded, but shrunk back a little as everyone in the group stared at him.

 

“You two are sharing a room?” Chris teased, and Viktor shot him a dark look before squeezing Yuuri’s hand and walking off.

 

Everyone departed, including Phichit, and soon Yuuri was stuck waiting for an elevator with Chris.

 

“I’m sorry if I seemed inappropriate,” Chris began, and Yuuri tried his best to remain neutral.  “I’m just shocked.  Viktor isn’t particularly good at consistency.  It’s what makes him so surprising.  I knew you two had hit it off a few weeks ago, but to see you two together here, holding hands and sharing a room, you almost look like a couple.”

 

The words sunk into Yuuri’s brain, setting him on edge.  He knew that Viktor and him should talk about what they were to each other, but hearing Chris talk only made him question it.

 

“Honestly, we need to talk about it.  I don’t know what we are.”

 

Chris nodded as the elevator dinged and they got in, pressing their respective floors.

 

“For the record, I’ve been friends with Viktor for years, and I’ve never seen him get that angry at me.  He must really like you, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri glanced over at Chris, who was studying him carefully.

 

Chris’ floor came up first, and he stepped out, putting his arm back to block the doors from closing.  “You look healthier, Yuuri.  I remember seeing you at the Grand Prix Final last year.  Maybe I’ll see you on the ice again, soon.”

 

The elevator door slid closed, leaving Yuuri alone with his reflection in the chrome doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always felt that Chris and Yuuri would butt heads. Them getting along never seemed natural- Yuuri is so rigid, and Chris is so flippant. However, they share a deep affection for the same Russian heart breaker, which gives them common ground.
> 
> Thank you for reading, again. If you like this fic, hit the like or share button. If you want to tell me something, drop a comment or message me on tumblr/twitter.   
> Tumblr- painted-lady12  
> Twitter- painted_lady12
> 
> If you like this, check out my other YOI fics!


	9. Finding More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri watches the competition two days in a row. We get insight into many of the skater's performances, and Yuuri gets a wake-up call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings<3
> 
> So I didn't start out this chapter planning to end it the way it ended, but sometimes our characters surprise us. This chapter is told from many different perspectives over the course of two days, so bear with me here. There will be one more chapter after this, and an epilogue chapter as well.
> 
> I want to, again, thank all of the amazing people who comment on my fics or message me on tumblr (painted-lady12) or twitter (painted_lady12). You guys really keep me motivated and in top form. Positive feedback keeps my abused writer's heart beating. I appreciate any responses so that I know whether or not I should keep writing these:)
> 
> Just to do a little recap of the timeline in this version of the YOI-verse: Yuuri failed at the Grand Prix Final because of an eating disorder and not Vicchan. Due to that, he left immediately after performing and was never yelled at by Yurio in the bathroom, as well as he did not attend the banquet and dance with Viktor, Yurio, or Chris. After this loss, Yuuri announces his retirement from skating. Yuuri's agent suggests that he pursue modeling and he does so. We pick up the next Grand Prix Series, where Viktor is competing but is doing so with little inspiration and clearly has lost motivation in his career. Yuuri and Viktor meet at a modeling shoot Yuuri was involved with, and hook up, quickly discovering chemistry both in the bedroom and out. 
> 
> As usual, I do not own Yuri! on Ice

As Yuuri stood in the stands, looking around at the screaming fans and searching for his own sister and Minako, he couldn’t help but feel the rink shift subtly to Sochi, and he saw himself on the ice, falling during his routine.

 

Shaking his head to clear it, he caught sight of them.  He wandered up to their seats and paled visibly.

 

“What THE HELL is that?!”  Yuuri accused, pointing at the sign that Minako and Mari were holding.

 

It was a picture of Viktor, with the caption, “Viktor’s muse sits here!”

 

Groaning, Yuuri sat a little aways from them.

 

Minako giggled.  “Sorry, Yuuri, but Viktor wanted to know where you were sitting.  He insisted that we bring the banner.”

 

“I’m not speaking to either of you two.”

 

They waited patiently for the competition to begin, and eventually it started.  Viktor was up first.

 

The silver haired temptress skated onto the ice, peering up into the crowd and smiling widely when he spotted the banner, and waved at Yuuri enthusiastically.

 

He saw the big screen zoom in on the banner, and then pan to Yuuri himself, and his face went beat red.  The commentary was positively scandalous.

 

Yuuri was very happy that he didn’t know much Spanish.

 

When Viktor began, though, the rest of the world faded away.

  


***

  


Viktor readied himself. His body was already warm, already imagining snuggling up with Yuuri later, already ready to seduce his lover.

 

_I want you, Yuuri.  So damn much.  I hope this shows you._

 

The guitar strummed away, and then the violin was in hot pursuit, feverish and relentless in it’s melody.  Viktor felt the crowd disappear; it was just him and Yuuri on this ice.  The music was the soundtrack of their lovemaking.  He finally had Yuuri all to himself, pinning him up against the wall to…

 

...imaginary Yuuri didn’t have any qualms about bottoming.  In fact, imaginary Yuuri was panting and begging for it.

 

Viktor launched into a jump, his fantastical version of Yuuri gasping and screaming in ecstasy...

 

...If Yuuri even got an iota of the eros he was sending his way, then the whole rink would be panting.

 

This had never happened to Viktor in a program; that he became so singularly invested in one person, in one reaction that the rest just fell away.  In fact, he wasn’t even sure what the audience was doing.  They could be dead as the grave right now, and Viktor didn’t care.

 

Viktor only cared that Yuuri saw; that Yuuri wanted.

 

When the music stopped, he found Yuuri in the stands, and the volume seemingly came back up from the crowd.  Yuuri was sitting, dumbstruck, and everyone else was practically rioting.

 

Yakov was yelling from the sidelines, something about him being an idiot, but he only had eyes for Yuuri.

  


***

  


Christophe watched from the sidelines as Phichit skated a lap around the ice.

 

It wasn’t unusual for Viktor to break a world record with his programs; in fact it was almost habit at this point.

 

However, Viktor had broken his old record by more than two points.

 

Chris looked up at the boy in the stands, Yuuri.

 

The mystery boy.  Well, at least, he's a mystery now.  Chris had watched Yuuri’s skating from a distance for a long time now; he'd admired his resolve and talent.  Chris had always assumed Yuuri was an ice queen, cold and distant and singularly focused.  He thought he had Yuuri Katsuki figured out

 

Then, Chris saw Yuuri with Viktor, and he realized that he was very, very wrong.  Yuuri was not only much warmer and softer than he initially appeared, but he was almost… breakable.

 

The ice queen Yuuri who was gaunt and serious melted in the last year; this new Yuuri had pudgy cheeks and bright eyes and his corners were smoothed out and sanded down until he was a person sitting across from Chris, defrosted and very much alive.

 

Yuuri was no toy of Viktor’s.  Yuuri had so much more power than that.

 

Yuuri could hurt Viktor, could crush him.  And Chris… well, Chris was terrified of Viktor being crushed.

 

Phichit began his program.  Chris eyed the Thai skater warily.  If anyone knows what the truth about Yuuri was, it’d be him.

 

Perhaps it was time to make more friends

  


***

  


Phichit left the kiss and cry and was quickly accosted by Christophe.  Throwing his arms up in excitement, he started babbling about how exciting all of the fanfare was, and begged to take a selfie of the two of them.

 

“I can tag you, right?”

 

Chris smiled indulgently. “Of course!  I love that.  Our fans will probably go crazy.”

 

Phichit grinned widely as he typed out a quick Instagram post, then Chris touched his wrist gently.  

 

Looking up, Phichit blushed and bit his lip.  

 

“I actually wanted to ask you about something.”

 

Phichit was positively delicious.  Chris hadn't given the younger man much thought up until then, but the curve of his face, and the cool brown of his eyes was a dangerous combination.

 

Phichit gulped, asking brightly, “what can I do for you?”

 

The question was loaded.  

  


Chris felt himself admiring the way that Phichit’s costume clung to him…

 

“Yuuri.  Is he coming back to skating?”

 

The Thai skater bit his lip; it was obvious that Phichit didn’t speak about this much.  Chris would even venture that Yuuri’s secrets were very carefully guarded under Phichit’s luscious locks.

 

“Yuuri will return when he’s ready.  For right now he’s dealing with some stuff.  I’m optimistic that he’ll be able to return for next year’s Grand Prix series.”

 

There was a roar as Yuri Plisetsky skated out onto the ice.  Viktor had coordinated his program; apparently it was a foil to Viktor’s, agape to Viktor’s eros.

 

Chris smiled winningly at Phichit, saying “I hope I get to compete against him again when he’s at his best.  It’s the only way I can know for sure who the better skater is.”

 

A friendly yet competitive electricity buzzed between the two of them, and Chris nodded to the stands.  “Let’s watch the angry kitten, shall we?”

  


***

  


Viktor and Yuuri went back to the hotel after the interviews were over and watched a stupid movie, falling fast asleep in each other’s arms.  Yuuri had almost passed out when Viktor joked that they should fuck again before the free, for good luck.

 

Viktor, on the other hand, thought that he was being hilarious.

 

Chris texted him after Yuuri had fallen fast asleep in his arms, hair mussed and cheeks flushed.

 

_C: I’m sorry if I was an ass yesterday.  Yuuri seems to be good for you_

 

_V: It’s alright, Yuuri explained what happened.  I know you meant well_

 

_C: For what it’s worth, I think you’re crazy if you don’t grab onto him and hold him for all he’s worth.  People like Yuuri Katsuki don’t come around every day._

 

Viktor pressed a chaste kiss to Yuuri below his hairline, and Yuuri smiled in his exhausted stupor.

 

_V: I know.  He means so much to me.  I can’t wait to show him tomorrow._

  


***

  


Viktor Nikiforov looked up at Yuuri in the stands.  Today he was sitting a little closer to Minako and his sister, watching the ice with determination.

 

The theme for Viktor’s short program was eros, or sexual desire.  His theme for his free program was hope.  

 

As the piano music began, Viktor was transported back in time, to just after last year’s Grand Prix.  When everything seemed futile; when he’d all but given up hope that anything would surprise him or make him feel alive, at all.

 

Skating was just a habit, at this point.  His love for it nothing but crushed, dead rose petals whisked away in the passing wind.

 

It was once beautiful, but now it’s lost all color and shape and became no better than dust.

 

He practiced because of habit.  He ate because of habit.  Habit helped him fall asleep, and habit helped him get to the rink every day without driving his car off a cliff.

 

Yakov had looked at him one day, really looked into his eyes, and the grown Russian man shrinked back like he’d seen the devil.

 

Viktor was as good as dead, but his body kept playing a part.

 

One night, a few weeks after Worlds, he’d woken up in a cold sweat and ran to the rink to compose a program.

 

It was habit that made him work on it, but there was some sort of inspiration there.

 

The program begins with a sad piano melody, reminiscent of Stammi Vicino.  Then a stirring cello joins in, and a flute starts dancing on the deeper, darker melody like a tiny light at the end of a long tunnel.  Viktor launched up, feeling the emotions sweep over him.

 

Last year Viktor was as good as dead.  Then, he found just a tiny sliver of hope, hidden in the deep, dark corners of his mind, and Viktor felt himself practicing with vigor again.

 

He’d been holding out for that hope to appear in his real life, and until then the program just didn’t feel right.  It was still top notch, but it wasn’t record breaking yet.

 

Then Yuuri came.

 

For the first time in months, color started seeping back into the world.   The rose petals flew back together and burst to life, and Viktor saw the world clearly for the first time in his whole life.

 

There was someone that made his whole body ignite like it was on fire; he found someone that he could laugh with, really truly laugh.  Viktor had found something that had brought him back from the dead.

 

_Yuuri, I want to hold onto you.  I want to keep you in my life.  There’s no one else for me.  I want to figure out what that means._

 

When Viktor finished his skate, he looked up, hoping that Yuuri had gotten the message, and saw that his muse was sitting solemnly, tears flowing down his face as his sister pat his shoulder lovingly.

 

He seemed to have gotten the message.

  


***

  


Yuri Plisetsky was six when he saw Yuuri Katsuki skate for the first time.  At the time, Yuuri was fourteen, and competing in the Juniors.

 

Yuri remembered sitting at the edge of the rink with Yakov, who had brought him to the competition so that he could motivate two of his younger pupils.  Mila and Yuri battled it out for the seat farthest from the angry Russian coach, and waited patiently for the programs to begin.

 

When Yuuri Katsuki stepped out, he was breathtaking.  His outfit was a gentle purple floral design leading to a cut-off shoulder patch.  The outfit faded to black, and was dotted sparingly with brilliant crystals.

 

The first thing Yuri noticed was that the Japanese skater was nervous.  The second thing he noticed was that just before Yuuri began, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, a gentle, loving smile gracing his lips.  It was the kind of smile reserved for lovers, and Yuri felt like it was only for him.

 

He was tiny, and still growing, but he knew that moment that he wanted to be just like Yuuri Katsuki.

 

Then the program began, and Yuuri was as fluid as liquid, moving elegantly and smoothly through a complicated step sequence and launching up into a triple toe loop.

 

“Wow!” Mila gasped, but Yuuri wasn’t done yet.

 

By the end of the program, Yuuri Katsuki was the unsuspecting owner of two new super fans.

 

After the last Grand Prix Final, Yuri Plisetsky had tried to find Katsuki everywhere to yell and scream for answers.  He spent his last Junior Grand Prix banquet looking around desperately trying to find Yuuri, to talk to him and figure out what had happened that had made his skating idol lose so spectacularly, but he got no opportunity for the interrogation.

 

A week later, Yuuri announced his retirement on social media, and Yuri Plisetsky got angry.

 

Then, he started working with Viktor on a free program to vent his rage.

 

When he skated out onto the ice for his free program, he knew one thing for certain.

 

Yuuri Katsuki had no choice but to watch him, now.

 

The day before at the short programs Yuuri was watching the entire competition with a light in his eyes.  Yuri saw the fire stoke in him; he just needed a push to get him back onto the ice.

 

_I know you belong out here with us.  I'm going to show you.  Watch me._

 

So, in the outfit that was modeled after that stupid purple costume, with red mixed in to show a flame of anger, Yuri looked up at Katsuki and held his gaze, if only for a moment.

 

It was hard to tell from a distance, but he was pretty sure that Yuuri had gulped.

 

_Watch me, Yuuri.  You don’t get to retire.  Some people depend on you._

 

Yuri began his fast paced music, already lost to the program, but needing to convey what he came to say.

 

The program was punishing like nothing else was; the program called out to every other skater in the room, as a challenge.  No one could match Yuri’s speed, or his versatility with his tiny frame.  

 

_I was waiting for the day to compete against you, you stupid pig.  Don’t disappoint me!_

 

Yuri looked up to the stands at the end, gasping and spluttering, hoping that he’d at least bumped himself up to third place so he could medal.

 

Yuuri Katsuki was standing up in his seat.  He looked… sick to his stomach.

 

Yuri wished he could read minds, or communicate telepathically.  Before he could escape the kiss and cry, with his mind boggling score, the Japanese man was nowhere to be found.

 

Later that night, he made his way to where he knew Viktor’s secret room was.  He knocked on the door, hoping to get Yuuri alone, but knowing he was far more likely to be disturbing something vomit-inducing.

 

Instead he got a very stunned Viktor, gold medal still slung around his neck and body still covered with glitter.  

 

“Where is he?” Yuri asked, panic hitching in his chest.

 

Viktor clutched a small piece of paper in his hand.  It was crumpled up but clearly had writing on it.  His eyes swam with tears.  “He’s gone.”

  


_***_

  


_Dear Viktor,_

 

_I’m so sorry, but I need to focus on my career right now.  I feel sure about my future for the first time in a long time, and I need to hold onto that._

 

_There are things that I need to say to you, but there’s only one right way to say it.  I hope you can wait for me.  At the competitions, please watch me.  I skate only for you._

 

_I’m so sorry that I can’t explain more.  These last few weeks with you have been more meaningful than you will ever know._

 

_Yours,_

_Yuuri Katsuki_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be two more chapters: a finale and an epilogue. All of you are wonderful and I'm so grateful that you guys continue to read. 
> 
> Also, if anyone wants to submit fan art from any of my fics, I've been doing an exchange: one piece of art, for a prompt of your choice. See "Ship Wars!!!" and "What's My Line, Again?" as examples. It's always an option, otherwise just hang out and see what I have in store next!
> 
> If you like this, check out my other YOI fics! "Silver Devils Play" is my other lengthy ongoing fic. "Close Enough To Get Burned" is my next multi-chapter I've started. Otherwise, there are a ton more, just click on my username:)


	10. Capturing Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri hates how he leaves things with Viktor, but continues to work on his career and make it back into the Grand Prix Series. Later, Viktor and Yuuri are reunited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all!
> 
> As you can see, I've upped the chapter count to eleven; the eleventh "chapter" will be an epilogue, so for all intents and purposes this part of the story will draw to a close at the end of this chapter. 
> 
> I want to do a final thank you to everyone for sticking with me during this adventure. I've never been more in awe of how supportive and kind our fandom is. We're a pretty cool bunch of people. I'm so lucky to have you<3
> 
> The end quote is in reference to the first quote in this fic; if you need to refresh your memory please refer to the first paragraph of Chapter 1 :)
> 
> If any of you guys want to reach out to me, I can be found at painted-lady12 on tumblr and painted_lady12 on twitter. Feel free to message me/ freak out about YOI stuff with me<3
> 
> As usual, I do not own Yuri! on Ice

When Yuuri saw Yuri finish his free skate, he knew two things.

 

One: that Yuri Plisetsky was one of the most talented young skaters he’d ever seen

 

Two: that Yuuri wanted nothing more than to win against someone like him.

 

It was like his drive forward caught aflame.  The sparks that ignited a few days ago while practicing with Viktor were blown into a bonfire now, and with Mari and Minako trailing behind him, he exited the rink, knowing what he needed to do.

 

He stood in the hotel room, holding the blue roses he’d purchased to give to Viktor tonight, and crumpled the first note, hastily scribbling a new one down.

 

The old one read:

 

_Dear Viktor,_

 

_These last few weeks have been magical.  I’m finding myself again, and you’re part of that.  I’m so grateful to you.  I.... want us to take our relationship to a new level.  I don’t know what that even means yet._

 

_There are so many things about you that I’ve loved for years, but there are so many new things I’ve uncovered.  Like the way you bite your lip when you’re flustered, and how easily distracted you are.  There are things about us, too.  The way we can laugh while making love, the way we seem to just always fall into step.  It feels like we’ve been together for years already, so labeling what we have has always seemed so… trivial._

 

_I want a label, though.  I want to be able to tell the world that Viktor Nikiforov is my… something_

 

_You can fill in the blank with what that means.  I’ll move to St. Petersburg, even give up returning to skating if that means being with you._

 

_Yours always,_

_Yuuri Katsuki_

  


***

  


Moving to Bangkok to train with Minako and Celestino was quite a wake-up call for Yuuri.  Minako and him quickly settled in and started training, leaving all else to the wayside.

 

Yuuri loved being so close to Phichit again.  He loved working day in and day out, falling back in love with the sport.  He was rewriting the bad memories with hard work and tender hands.

 

Viktor announced that he was retiring after Worlds to help assist Yakov with coaching.  He worked mostly with Yuri Plisetsky, the Russian punk, the boy who had thoroughly kicked Yuuri’s ass when he told him with his staking: _come and get me._

 

It took months and months, but eventually Yuuri was standing on the ice at the Cup of China.  Him and Yuri weren’t scheduled to be in any events together; that was okay, Yuuri thought.  It just made it more pertinent to make his message loud and clear.

 

His short program was a fast paced monster; it showed his struggles with his eating disorder, and clawing through day by day.  It was quick and dark and emotional.  Yuuri’s face was painted in blacks and purples, like his costume.

 

However, his free skate was completely different.  

 

He’d reached out to an old friend from college to rework one of his older pieces; it was a piano bit, and he had titled it “Yuri on Ice”.

 

It first shows what Yuuri felt like to be fighting alone, then the next part shows how people like Phichit and his family helped him get better.

 

Finally, there was Viktor.

 

His movements were succinct and emotional, so much so that he was crying by the time he launched into his final jump.  A quadruple flip, for Viktor’s eyes only.

 

When he got off the ice, Christophe, Phichit, Leo, Emil and Ji were all cheering loudly for him.  The whole rink had erupted into applause.  The announcers were hailing Yuuri a comeback sensation; he was the one to beat that year.

 

That night all six of the skaters went out for dinner together.  They laughed and toasted to Yuuri’s gold medal win at the Cup of China.

 

“To Yuuri, for making the Grand Prix Final an actual challenge, even without Viktor,” Christophe teased, saluting Yuuri and raising his glass in a toast.

 

Yuuri walked out of the dinner feeling like his body was stuffed to the brim with happiness and support; all of the fellow skaters were so happy and excited to have him back.

 

That night, when he got back to his hotel room, he saw a simple text from Viktor’s number.

 

_V: I saw you.  I’m speechless.  I can’t wait to see you at the Grand Prix Final._

  


***

  


When the Grand Prix Final arrived, Yuuri and Phichit were sharing a room, looking through the room service menu.

 

Phichit placed their order, and soon they were salivating over a delicious meal.  They ate nearly silently, Phichit watching each bite Yuuri consumed.  It looked like Yuuri was holding it down, and unless Phichit was very much mistaken, it almost looked like his best friend was actually enjoying eating, right before a competition.

 

He didn’t think that that had ever happened.

  


***

  


When Yuuri took the ice for his free program, Viktor was standing on the sidelines with Yuri, and looked as pale as a ghost.

 

They hadn’t seen each other in person in a year.

 

_I hope this was worth the wait._

 

Yuuri danced through his routine, spinning and directing his symphony of love and hope and skating; and Viktor, who had crashed back into his life and reminded him that both life and skating weren’t only about being the best.

 

It was about baring your soul to another; it was about giggles during lovemaking and forgiving mistakes with kisses instead of tearing them down.  It was about patience, and hard work.

 

And sometimes, it was about a Russian punk challenging you to get off your ass and back where you belonged.

 

At the end of the program, Yuuri looked towards Viktor, hoping that he got the message across.

 

_Is he angry?  Is he sad?  I have to know._

 

Viktor’s head was in his hands, then he looked up, tears in his eyes, and Yuuri knew.

 

When Yuuri got off the ice, he felt arms encircle him, and he gasped, feeling love and warmth and hope surge through the connection.

 

Viktor’s lips ghosted next to Yuuri’s ear.  “We can head to my hotel room after this.  Maybe we can work on our eros?”

 

Yuuri pulled back, positively melting at the bright face of Viktor Nikiforov.  “Maybe we can work on our agape, too.”

 

 

***

 

 

Yuuri stared at his score above him, completely flabbergasted.

 

It had surpassed the previous record set by Viktor Nikiforov.  

 

Yuuri Katsuki had made history.  

 

When Yuuri saw that, he broke into sobs, clutching to Minako tightly, shaking.

 

“You did good kid.  You crawled back from the edge of hell itself for this.  I’m honored to be working with you.”

 

Yuuri pulled back, and say that she was crying, too.  Ciao Ciao was squeezing his other hand supportively, allowing them their moment.

 

Later that day, one of the members of the press conference stood up and adjusted their glasses, looking very carefully at their paper.  “This question is for Katsuki Yuuri.  The rumors that have circulated about you being out last season are running rampant.  I think we all really want to know what made someone with your talent leave, and moreso what made you come back.”

 

Cameras were flashing at him; he was prepared for this question.  It was expected, and was one that until then he refused to answer.

 

“Last year I was struggling with my own demons.  My love of skating was tainted with insecurities and mental illness.  I wasn’t my best self.  Taking the year off allowed me time to heal, and learn, and get back to why I skate in the first place.  I skate because I love it.  I love being here, I love being challenged by amazing competitors, and I love myself despite my flaws.  There were so many people who brought me to where I am.  These were people who always loved me, but I couldn’t see it.  Love changed me.  I’m stronger now.  I’m glad I got to prove that to you all.”

 

There were mumbles and more camera flashes, before someone asked, “Yuuri, is it true that you were seen having a tryst with Viktor Nikiforov last year?”

 

Yuuri had been taking a sip of water, and coughed and spluttered a bit at that.  “Oh, um, next question?” He asked weakly, before the whole conference was blowing up with questions.

 

Yuri, the silver medalist, was watching him carefully, fire behind his eyes.  If Yuuri had to guess, he’d think that next year, Yuri would be determined to defeat his arch rival.

 

Yuuri was ready to meet that challenge.

  


***

  


That night, when Viktor was laughing and cuddling close to Yuuri under the sheets, the younger man whispered, “I think it’s my turn.”

 

Gasping, Viktor looked into Yuuri’s eyes, twinkling with mischief.  “Your turn for what?”

 

“Fuck me, Viktor.  I want this.  I need to show you that…”

 

Viktor’s eyes blew wide.  “Oh, Yuuri, that isn’t necessary.  I… how about we… talk?”

 

Yuuri nodded, bringing Viktor up to his lips and kissing him briefly.  “Later?”

 

Smiling, Viktor ran his fingers through Yuuri’s messy hair, gazing into his eyes.  “Only if you want to, Yuuri.”

 

“Okay,” Yuuri agreed, and they were lying parallel, legs tangled together, bodies bent together and breath comingling in the air.

 

“Hi,” Viktor smiled stupidly, and Yuuri laughed.

 

“Hi back.”

 

They were wound up in the sheets of Viktor’s hotel room, hours after interviews and scores and medal ceremonies.  

 

“Gold looked good on you,” Viktor practically purred, touching the spot on Yuuri’s chest where the medal had lain, only hours ago.

 

“It looked good on you, too.”

 

“Today wasn’t about me,” Viktor argued gently, and Yuuri’s wide chocolate eyes gazed up at  him with… “Yuuri?”

 

“I… I owe you an explanation.”

 

Viktor sighed.  “You explained it all on the ice.”

 

Shaking his head, Yuuri leaned closer to Viktor, so his hair tickled his forehead.  “I needed to do this.  I needed to prove that I could come back.  I couldn’t rebuild my career and my life while also falling in love with you.”

 

The words were like little pinpricks on Viktor’s skin, stinging and aching and making his heart race.  “Falling… in love?”

 

Blushing, Yuuri pressed his face into Viktor’s neck, whispering, “ _hai”_ and pressing a feather-light kiss to his pulse point.

 

Viktor must have been going crazy.  They’d only known each other for a few weeks, but in the months of their separation they’d kept up with Skype and texting, and Viktor had found a tiny Yuuri-sized seed planted in his heart, growing with patience and guidance.

 

He must be going crazy, because he whispered, “I’m falling for you, too.”

 

“This is so backwards,” Yuuri laughed, nuzzling closer.  “It shouldn’t be happening like this.  It’s just so…”

 

“...easy,” Viktor finished helpfully, running his fingers through Yuuri’s messy hair.  “It’s never been easy for me, before.  I was worried when you left me last Grand Prix, but I knew it was what you needed.  I thought waiting would be hard.  Here I sit, a year later, so happy than I can almost burst.  It felt like no time at all, and an eternity.”

 

Yuuri was tracing patterns into Viktor’s chest, so content and warm and happy.  

 

“Boyfriend.”

 

Yuuri looked up at Viktor with confusion, and Viktor handed over the note that Yuuri had torn up and thrown in the trash.  It was held together with tape and had a mysterious stain, but the note was in tact.

 

“That’s what I want to be to you.  I’ll move to Bangkok, or Hasetsu, or wherever.  Wherever you are, is where I want to be, Yuuri Katsuki.  The rest will just… be easy.  Like everything else has been.”

 

Sniffling, Yuuri buried his face into Viktor’s chest, whispering, “Please follow me wherever I go, until I retire.”

 

The battle back had been hell.  With the added stress of training, his recovery had gotten a bit rocky, but he persevered, and he thrived.  Yuuri was ready to take on the world for at least five more seasons, at least.

 

Viktor hugged Yuuri close, whispering, “Of course.  I hope you never retire.”

 

A few hours later, Viktor was pressing Yuuri on his back, gently asking, “Are you sure?”

 

Nodding, Yuuri let Viktor undress him.  He felt so exposed like this; it still took so much for him to look at his body and not become revolted.  Every pound on the scale felt like a balance against himself.  Yuuri cried himself to sleep at night, holding his softening belly in agony.

 

With every new inch of exposed skin, Viktor kissed and licked and whispered reverence, making Yuuri melt so effectively that by time Viktor had fingers pressed into him, it barely hurt at all.

 

“Be gentle,” Yuuri whispered breathlessly, and Viktor brushed a piece of sweaty hair back from Yuuri’s face with his free hand, whispering, “Always.”

 

Viktor took Yuuri apart inch by inch, lick by lick.  He was making good on a promise that he’d made a very long time ago.  Their bodies were practically singing wherever they touched, and when Viktor pressed into Yuuri, he silenced his gasp of pain with a kiss and loving words.

 

Viktor finished Yuuri off with his hand before Viktor even moved, relaxing Yuuri up immensely.  The younger man was screaming at the overstimulation when Viktor started thrusting, but when Viktor looked worriedly down at his lover, concerned, Yuuri gasped, “no, no, keep going, PLEASE!”

 

It was tinted with a hint of desperation, and Viktor made it his mission to make Yuuri scream every time they made love.

 

When they were finished and tangled together, Yuuri whispered, “What do you think would’ve happened, if I didn’t have an eating disorder?”

 

Fingers tracing soothing lines into Yuuri’s skin, Viktor whispered, “I wouldn’t change your story for the world.  It’s made you who you are,” he paused, thoughtful for a moment, then whispered, “However, I think that people have a way of finding each other.”

 

Yuuri smiled, burying his face into Viktor, breathing him in and feeling at peace.  

  


***

  


After the press conference, speculation about the relationship between Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki spiraled.  Eventually, old photos were brought into question.  Their print ad for cologne was exhibit A; some blurry photos of the two of them grinding against each other in a club were exhibit B.  However, exhibit C was the most damning.

 

After further review of the film from the previous Grand Prix, it was discovered that Yuuri was found sitting near the classic “Viktor’s Muse” sign, blushing and obvious.

 

It became even more interesting when it was revealed that Yuuri Katsuki and Phichit Chulanot were moving their home base to Hasetsu, Japan, and that Viktor would be moving there with Yuri Plisetsky.  The three of them would be preparing for the season together, and Viktor was reportedly seen out and about with only Yuuri Katsuki, leading many to believe that they were dating.

 

Someone posted a before and after picture of Yuuri Katsuki from his first Grand Prix attempt to him winning gold, of how he’d changed.  His face was fuller, his body was healthier.  His eyes were bright and shiny and excited, and his hair was longer, almost long enough to pull back.

 

They wrote:

 

_This shows the kind of determination that Yuuri Katsuki has!!!  His battle with mental illness is ongoing, but he’s shown us what it’s like to come back from the brink.  This is why he’s my favorite skater <3333  He posted a quote from one of his favorite books a few months ago, and I think it perfectly represents his struggle and healing: _

 

_“There are monsters under my skin.  They’re still there, but they’ve quieted down, some.  They’ve stilled enough for me to pick the flower of kindness back up.  Green started dripping back into the stem; the flower burst to life in my hands.  It wasn’t perfect, but it was still beautiful._

 

_The monsters will never leave, as I’ve discovered._

 

_I’m ready to let you back in, now.  The thick, hot, sliding things are still here.  They’re a part of me.  I hope they don’t scare you away, because I need someone like you to remind me that I’m more than just the monsters.  I am kiss-bitten lips and warm embraces and hope and strength personified.  I’ve come back from the brink and I’m ready to fight.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how I did in the comments<3 Drop me a kudos or share if you feel I earned it. 
> 
> Would you be interested in a follow up fic, or do you think this story feels complete? I'd love feedback on that! I would get to it after finishing off some other projects I'm working on, but I could put it on the agenda if the interest is there.
> 
> If you like this, check out my other YOI fics! "Silver Devils Play" is my longest ongoing fic about Yuuri and Viktor struggling with mental illness in the beginning of their relationship. "Tabula Rasa" is an AU where Yuuri wakes up in the hospital, and his physician is none other than the handsome Dr. Nikiforov. WARNING: both tearjerkers. I have some fun one-offs, too. Feel free to check any of them out ^_^


	11. Singing of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Yuuri pose for a shoot and reminisce what brought them together. Then, Yuuri gets interviewed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little epilogue to give this fic a pleasant ending<3 I'm planning on writing a follow-up to this fic at some point, though the details of when still elude me. I'll let you know when I know.
> 
> A big shout-out to all my regular readers. I'd be nowhere without your constant support and positive attitudes. You are the ones that remind me why I do this. If any of my regulars have any ideas for prompts for me, I'd love to hear them. You guys already do so much for me, I'd be happy to do this for you<3 Don't hesitate to reach out on tumblr (painted-lady12) or twitter (painted_lady12)
> 
> Enjoy<3 There's a few references to the eating disorder in this chapter, just as fair warning. Mostly it's just wrapping things up in a nice bow. 
> 
> As usual, I do not own Yuri! on Ice

Red lipstick was being applied generously to the agent in Yuuri’s dressing room, and she brushed back her long, pin-straight hair with manicured fingers.

 

“The magazine wants you and Viktor to seem very poised but happy.  They’re looking for a private kind of love, a small smile and light touches.”

 

Yuuri nodded as they pinned the last of his suit onto him, and he stood in front of the mirror.

 

Reflecting back was a man who had gained thirty pounds.  He was still slight, but not drifting in the wind anymore.  Yuuri Katsuki was grounded, and fierce.

 

Yuuri Katsuki remembered with a rush of emotion the last time him and Viktor posed together, and smiled to himself.  They would be posing together again, this time with Yurio.  The three of them were being interviewed by Numero Tokyo, and would be featured on the cover.

 

The stager came in and called for Yuuri, and his makeup artist dabbed a few more blots of cover-up onto his face and handed his glasses back.  “They want you to look relatable.”

 

Taking the glasses, Yuuri moved out into the staging area.  There was a set with a large ornate couch, flowers and pictures being set up around.  Yuuri could see Yurio grunting into his coffee that it was too early, and heard the familiar good-natured chuckle from his boyfriend.

 

“Oh, yes, my Yuuri is certainly very lovely, I can’t wait to… Yuuri!”

 

The silver-haired man came out dressed in an orange trenchcoat and gloves.  Their shoes and belts were almost identical; it was subtle, but Yuuri guesses they did that intentionally.

 

As usual, Viktor was stunning.  The color cast his face to look even more ethereal and beautiful, and upon seeing Yuuri Viktor dashed away from his own stager, who had been in the middle of giving him instructions and was now fuming a short distance away.

 

“Viktor…” but Yuuri didn’t get to finish what he was saying before Viktor had captured Yuuri in a kiss, a gentle but profound kiss that had the whole set freeze whatever they were doing.

 

The only noise was Yurio gagging a ways away.

 

When the stagers were setting them up on the couch, they just felt like they were too… posed.  Viktor and Yurio sitting too close and chummy looked unnatural.  Yuuri was a professional, but even he had something that wasn’t quite clicking with the crew.

 

Eventually, Yuuri’s agent whispered something, and they asked, “hey, can we get Viktor lying down?  Like with your back against the couch and Yuuri’s side, with his arm around you…” Viktor leaned down and Yuuri blushed a little as they locked hands over the Russian’s shoulder.

 

“What am I supposed to do with his feet!” Yurio complained, smacking the leg and wrestling with it until his arm was propped up on it and he looked grumpy, but at least wasn’t yelling anymore.

 

They tried a few other poses, but they found that their natural dynamic looked best: Viktor and Yuuri complementing each other, and Yurio annoyed and providing a contrast of emotion.

  
  


***

  
  


The three of them had come out to Tokyo for the shoot, but quickly made their way back to Hasetsu.  Phichit, Celestino, and Yurio were all sharing an apartment together just outside of Hasetsu.  Yuuri and Viktor had bought a tiny house just around the corner from the onsen, and had made it their own.

 

It was still very early in the preseason, and difficult practices hadn’t truly kicked in yet.  Yuuri and Viktor were very careful to keep an eye on Yuuri’s diet to ensure that his body stayed in tip-top shape for competing.

 

Their relationship was rocky at first.  There were a lot of growing pains in living together so early on, and getting used to each other’s habits.  Viktor was lax on certain chores that Yuuri simply couldn’t stand for, but Yuuri would leave blankets and cups lying around on every surface of the house.

 

Vicchan and Makkachin were much easier to learn how to co-exist.

 

The day after they returned from Tokyo, Yuuri, Yurio, Phichit, Celestino, Minako, and Viktor all went to Yutopia Katsuki for dinner.  Katsudon was served, and Hiroko made a speech about being so thrilled to have so many people come to their little town.  In the preseason time Yuuri and Viktor even planned to run a small summer camp for prospective skaters, and Yuuko and Takeshi could barely handle the onrush of interest in the camp, so much so that they found themselves asking the two of them to make more slots available.

 

Before long, Hasetsu was the place to be if you wanted to be an up-and-coming skater in Japan.

 

Yuuri and Phichit went out one night to a nearby city and were drinking together, laughing and having a grand old time.

 

“Hey, Yuuri?”

 

“What?” Yuuri giggled at the way his voice sounded.

 

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” Phichit tackled Yuuri in a hug, and Yuuri felt tears start to gather in his eyes.

 

“You know…” Yuuri pulled away, looking very seriously at his friend, lip trembling, “I don’t think I ever properly thanked you for pushing me to get the help I needed.”

 

Their drunkenness seemed to deplete significantly at that comment, and Phichit looked a little choked up.  “I’m always going to be here for you, Yuuri.  I need you around to keep up with my antics.  You can’t leave me just yet, partner.”

 

They toasted to that and ended up in Viktor and Yuuri’s home, sleeping in a heap with the dogs.  Viktor grumbled something about missed cuddle time when he woke them up the morning.

 

The interviewers came to the place that Viktor and Yuuri shared, and set up their cameras and equipment.  Viktor was nervously moving items around to keep them out of the way, and Yuuri found himself being made up once again before he was being interviewed by Sports Graphic Number, a very popular sports magazine in Japan.

 

He’d been sent all of his questions ahead of time, and he was reviewing the answers in his head now, ready for anything they could throw at him.

 

“Hello, Yuuri,” the interviewer started happily in Japanese.  “This will become a short segment on our webpage, as well as a printed interview in our next issue.  This will be heavily edited so if you make a mistake, just feel free to start again.”

 

The person doing the talking was a slight man with inky black hair that defied gravity, and a smile wide enough to calm Yuuri down.

 

“Okay, whenever you’re ready.”

 

“Great!” he shuffled through some papers.  “Today we’re here to talk about what they’re calling one of the greatest comebacks in skating history.  Yuuri, would you like to share with us your story?”

 

Yuuri had practiced this.  Yuuri knew his story, and it was his to tell.  “When I was preparing for my first Grand Prix Final, the stress got to me and I began starving myself.  The eating disorder severely hampered my performance, so much so that I expected my career to be over after that.”

 

A pause, a breath.  Viktor was sitting on their sofa a ways away, flicking his gaze from Yuuri to the host.

 

“Then I started modeling full time, and when I went to support Phichit in the NHK Trophy the year after, I realized that I had to come back.  Skating was my whole world, and I’d let my eating disorder take that away from me.  Supporting Phichit throughout the rest of the season showed me how much I missed it.  He also kicked me in the pants a little.  I started training, and was able to enter the next Grand Prix Series with my old coach, Celestino, and a very dear friend and advisor Minako Okukawa.”

 

“Your eating disorder, could you tell us what it was like?  So many athletes struggle with similar issues.”

 

Another expected question.  Yuuri pulled out his prepared internal dialogue.  “I think as athletes we’re expected to be perfect.  There’s so much pressure to make our families, countries, and fellow athletes proud, that we sometimes forget just to make ourselves proud.  I knew that competing with the disorder was a risk.  It wasn’t something that made me proud in myself, it was what I did to please others.  I’ve learned that if I want to make my country proud, I have to make myself proud, first.”

 

There was a smile on Viktor’s face, and he sniffled, smiling at Yuuri with all the love in the world.

 

“Alright, so I want to know about the new Treacherous Trio that has now made your hometown their base of operations.  Can you talk about that?”

 

Blinking, Yuuri laughed a little.  “Oh, yeah.  Phichit Chulanot and I are both coached by Celestino.  I have a secondary coach, Minako, but the most convenient place for all of us to be would be in Hasetsu.  Also, as Viktor and I are together and didn’t want to be separated, him and his student Yuri Plisetsky decided to come train here, as well.”

 

“Three of last year’s finalists all training in one place has a lot of people nervous.  Do you expect the three of you to maintain civility when you’re competing in the same bracket?”

 

That made Yuuri smile, remembering the many days they’d joked around and pushed each other to do their best during practice.  He remembered katsudon nights at the inn, and Minako teaching Yurio a whole new style of ballet.  Yuuri remembered Phichit and Viktor getting up to antics, and Yuuri and Phichit working hard to get their quads up to snuff.

 

“We’re like a big dysfunctional family.  It’s definitely an odd situation, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

The interviewer nodded.  “What can we expect from you next season, as the defending Grand Prix Gold Medalist?”

 

“You can expect me to fight tooth and nail to get back onto the podium.  I’ve already survived so much.  What’s another season going to hurt?”

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has meant the world to write. Thank you for embarking on this adventure with me. It's been a hell of a ride.
> 
> If you like this, check out my other YOI fics! "Silver Devils Play" is my most popular ongoing fic, and I have a few cute one-offs. Check them out!


End file.
